Just Like Starting Over
by izzum
Summary: Fourth part to Dez, Vigilante of the Capital Wasteland. Rating may change to M
1. Now That I'm Strong, I've Figured It Out

I haven't been back home in so damn long. It's scary, how fast time passes. Hell you don't even realize how fast it goes, until it's already over. Then you're stuck wondering what the hell happened and where it all went. I know where my time went, I started keeping careful timelines of my life, writing down all the important events. Where those notebooks go, I have no idea. I forget them in random places, but that's okay, because at least I wrote it all down. At least I have something to be remembered by. Yeah, like a few old pieces of paper will be what people think when they remember me. I doubt that.

I'm worth remembering. How do I know that? Because people still talk about me. I still hear them, even way out in New Vegas, talking of what I've done, who I am. I came out here about five years ago, looking for something. I'm still not sure what it was I was looking for, exactly. But I know whatever it was, it's not here. Well, I'm not there anymore, really. I'm in the back of an old truck,

Doing eighty to ninety over the desert, waiting patiently. There's other passengers, and they're talking about me, without knowing it's me.

I got sick of New Vegas. It's nothing like the Capital Wasteland. Nothing at all. It's overrun with people, with robots, business and bright lights. I fit right in some of the scenes they offer over there, but it made me uncomfortable. There's no Super Mutants, no Radscorpions, no ghouls. It's just humans, and some strange beings I didn't bother to learn. I just stuck with humans, getting to know some, hating some, killing some. New Vegas has a law, though, and I broke that law. It's not as free and fun as the Capital Wasteland was. That's why I'm going back. I got sick of running, of hiding, of always being on my toes. Law…law doesn't fit out here. I don't like it. I want my freedom back, my life, everything.

I'm not going back with the idea or thought everything is going to be the same, because I know it won't be. How different it'll be is what I don't know. At least I'm not stupid and assuming things to be as I left them. I've done a lot of growing up over the years. Spent a lot of time alone, walking clear across the country. It sucked, that's why I'm driving back. Hailing a ride with some strange man for a few caps of gas. But still…I've done a lot of self-discovery shit. Haven't found out much, but I've matured. Realized the world doesn't revolve around me and I have more life-experience than most old men out here. Figure that's got to be worth something, right?

A lot of people out in New Vegas asked where I got my scars from. Now most of them are healed, just pale white under my newly-tanned skin. The sun out there is worse than the Capital Wasteland. Anyways, at first I'd tell them. Just a short snippet or summary of my adventures, nothing too much. But when I said things like 'Super Mutant' and 'Raider', they looked at me like I had seven heads. There's no Raiders out in New Vegas. It's too lawful for that, too held-back. Society is on a downturn over there, I tell you that. People don't want to rebuild again, hell if they did they'd have done it by now. It's been over two-hundred years. People _like_ living this way. It's survival of the fittest, we live on instinct, people won't admit it, though. I will. I can't imagine ever going back into a vault and living like that. Out here…I'm _free_.

I'm excited to go home and see how it's changed, see how people have changed. If I stood in the right spot in New Vegas, I could get Three Dog's signal from clear across the desert. It made me feel at home, so on lonely nights I'd stand with my arm in the air, trying to hear him, hearing his howl, his music. It reminded me of the good old days. Of course, back then I hated it, I was so stupid. I'd fix a lot of the things I used to do, live differently, but then I guess I wouldn't be who I am now.

I don't have the messy orange and brown hair anymore. I mean, I do, but it's kept. I keep it in a ponytail, realizing there ways to keep it out of your face. I don't wear my Raider Badlands armor anymore. Now, I wear Merc Cruiser outfit. Keeps the brutal sun off my skin, prevents burning, circulates air pretty good. Plus I got sick of running around with my ass hanging out like a two-bit New Vegas hooker. Oh yes, New Vegas has hookers, I've met them. It doesn't matter though, live your life the way you want, just don't point a gun at me. Still have my trusty sawed-off shotgun, too. Don't carry much else. Just my gun, and a few caps and shells. I figure there's no point in Stimpacks or healing stuff, since all I have to do is take a dip in some radiation.

New Vegas doesn't have a lot of that, so when I got injured in a bar-fight or something, it was a real pain in the ass to find a place to heal without shelling out an arm and a leg for a doctor. I'm excited to finally be returning home, where the air is thick, the sun is warm, and the radiation is in full swing. At first I thought I'd never go back home, that I left there with a bittersweet taste in my mouth, and angry feelings towards everyone. Now, now that I've matured a bit, I realize you only ever get one home, and mine's the Capital Wasteland. I'll never find a place like that, no matter how hard I look. I made the choice, that it was time to come home.

Resting my head on the back of the flatbed's roof, I listen in on the few men talking. The roof of the truck is makeshift, blocking out the sun but keeping in the heat. We've been driving for _ages_ it feels like, and I'm beginning to sense we're close to home. Home, where my heart is.

"Yeah I hear she used to live there."

"Everyone hears that. But no one's seen her in _years_, dude."

"She took down the _Brotherhood_! Single-handedly! I swear she's got to be something."

"Yeah, something crazy."

"Naw man, I hear she's actually kind of nice."

"I hear the opposite. Why are people still talking about her, anyways?"

"Because she gave everyone _clean_ water, took out the Brotherhood, _and_ looked good doing it. Hell no one has balls like that, not even a man."  
"Maybe she used to be a man."

"Aw shit don't say that."

It's been pretty easy to keep a low cover. I mean, people out here don't know what I look like, they have no idea who I am. Three Dog never reports me by name, so it's not like I needed to create a new identity. I'm actually thankful I didn't have to make a new name for myself. 'Dezbe' suits me just fine. It sounds crazy, and it is, but it's special and unique, too.

The men continue on their conversation, I enjoy it. I enjoy hearing that people from New Vegas see me differently than the people in the Capital Wasteland did. Go figure, the people who are safe and secure see me as a hero for all my deeds, but the people who actually benefitted from my actions see me as a ruthless villain. It doesn't matter to me, though. I'm not coming back home for them. I'm coming back home because it's where I belong, it's where I'm best suited, and where any friend I've ever made is.

The truck starts to slow to a stop, and we all shift forward at the pressure and force of the breaks. It must be home. After days of travelling, of driving, of stinking in the back of this sun-oven, we're here.

"Alright everyone out!"

The driver yells and I hear him open his door. He wasn't too keen on giving four people rides all the way out here, but with the caps we offered, he wasn't just going to say no. We all watch, hearing his steps, as he walks over to the back of the truck to let us out. When he opens it, I see it's dusk, and I smile. The cool night of the Capital Wasteland…how I've missed it so much.

"Out, out, out!"

We shuffle out of the truck, and without another word, our driver takes off. Everyone in the group has a pack, has supplies for surviving out here, which tells me they aren't originally from here. I never carried anything of great importance with me, nothing I couldn't live without. I have my cigarettes and lighter in my pocket, ammunition in a pouch around my waist, and gun in my hand. That's all I need. Oh, and my caps, but they're mixed in with the ammo. I take in the sunset, it doesn't look like this out in New Vegas. There's too many lights to see it from the city. You have to travel a good mile out to see a few stars, to see the moon rising like the sun. I smile to myself, seeing the Washington Memorial not too far away. I'm home.

"Hey, uh, you ever been here before?"

One of the men from the truck asks me. Jamming my hands in my pockets, I look at him, nodding.

"Yeah. Long time ago, though."

"Do you know where we can uh, get some food or something?"

I open my arms and display the desert.

"Eat what you kill."

They looked at me like I was insane. I watched them gawk at me, gawk at one another, and shake their heads in disbelief.

"No, no way. There's got to be like, a restaurant around here or something…?"

I shook my head at them, looking down the hill at Super Duper Mart. I smiled at it, remembering. The truck dropped us off right in front of the bridge into the city, the one I never really felt the need to cross.

"Nope. And don't try the mart down there. I'm not sure how things have changed, but from what I remember, that place is ridden with Raiders."

"Raiders?"

"Bad people with guns and better aim than you."

I tell them, and start walking. I leave them standing in bewilderment, lost in the Capital Wasteland. One thing that hasn't changed about me is my selfishness. If it doesn't have anything to do with me, I don't care. I'm not going to go out of my way to help them, and I sure as hell isn't playing babysitter to three grown men. Right now, I don't want any responsibilities. I want to look around, see the sights, see how much its all changed.

The monument is still there. Someone took the time to put a light under it, so that now it glows, as if to say 'Hey, you're home, welcome, welcome…'. I'm sure no one missed me, but it's nice to think they have. It's nice, to be back home, in my own element. There's no big city lights, no noise, no disgusting people asking me for caps or anything like that. Here, it's just the cool wind, the big moon, and the lit-up Washington Monument. I never really figured I missed being home this much. I thought it wouldn't be like this when I got here, this warm feeling of being somewhere I fit. It is, though. I've missed it more than I thought.

The men I left behind don't bother to try and follow me. Although, it would have been in their best interest to. I would have left them some scraps, some little knickknacks here and there. So long as they didn't try to talk to me or anything. But they didn't. They went the opposite way I did, which is pretty smart, but still dangerous. They'd be safer underground, in the tunnels. No worries there, really. I think so, anyways. Not sure what's changed out here. I mean it all looks the same, figure it is still the same. I'm probably wrong though, and I'm probably going to have my ass served to me on a silver platter. I've been out of this game for far too long.


	2. I've Continued Learning

I take a walk over the bridge, to the outskirts of the city. I hear the silence that New Vegas lacked. I hear the noises of far-off Super Mutants arguing, of Raiders laughing somewhere even farther away, and I smile. I'm not scared, I'm happy. I'm happy to hear them, hear the familiarity in it, see the monument and the city still in ruins. It hasn't changed, the sights, and I'm happy for that. When you leave the one place you know you belong, for so long, it's nice to come back and see it all the same, as you left it.

If it was changed, I wouldn't feel right. Hell, it can change and look as different as it wants in the morning, but for tonight, I'm glad it's the same. It's the first thing I see, the last thing I ever saw, and I'm back. Hello, hello, I'm home. The city, the desert, the Raiders and Super Mutants, they're all a part of me, this place is my home. I never should have left, but it had to be done. I had to get out.

After all that had happened here, I couldn't take it. Something inside was aching to get out, explore and see the world and figure out things on my own terms, in my own mind. I did all that. I explored, met new people, made some friends, killed them, then made more. Oh, yeah, I've killed while I've been away. People two-timed me, double-crossed and ratted me out. You can't live in this day and age, and think you can go your whole life and _not_ kill. That's just stupid.

I found myself in New Vegas. After months of lulling it all over in my mind, nights spend high one whatever new drug, nights spent dragging myself out of someone's bed, nights spent looking up at the starry sky with tears in my eyes, I finally found myself. Who I found I didn't like at first, in fact I hated myself more than I ever had in the past…but…I learned.

I learned to like myself enough to fix me. Enough to sort through the memories and clouded debris and angry demons. Eventually, after two or three years, I felt okay. It was an inside battle, and I won eventually, but it was hard. I had to take into everything, really remember and write down all the significant events and even the not-so-significant ones. Those always made the biggest impact. Either way, I came out a better person because of it. Because I took that time, and forgave everyone, and made a new person out of it. I'm still Dezbe, still reckless, still selfish, but…I'm aware now. I've never been aware before. Plus I'm more mature. So, that's even more dangerous I guess. I told myself that someday…someday I'd make it right, and I did. For me, anyways.

Walking, I absentmindedly venture towards Bethesda Ruins. I'm not scared, I can still take on a Super Mutant, and I figure just walking won't harm or bother anything. Wow, it is all the same. All of it. Part of me feels sad that the Capital Wasteland seems stuck in this time-warp type thing, but another part of me…well it doesn't. It's thankful, for it being the same. As if time froze just for me, and now that I'm back, it can start again. I don't mind that, really. I just hope the people are the same. I know we've never seen eye-to-eye, but…well I wouldn't change it for the world. It made me who I am, how they treated me, made me into the evil bitch I once was, and still kind of am.

Men would ask that question a lot. When one of them had the balls to talk to me. I was the only girl like me out in New Vegas. I didn't have that 'run-down' type of look. I was fresh, new, not from the area. Everyone wanted to talk to me, but when they caught a glimpse of the gun on my hip, they quickly pussied out. It never mattered to me, but…I got lonely. Anyways, that's what the men would ask. Why I am such a bitch. I couldn't ever give a good answer that didn't involve an entire explanation, so most of the time I shrugged and said 'I don't know'. Truth is, it's just too long of a story.

You'd have to go back, way back, even before I left the vault, to figure that out. I did. My anger didn't start when my father left, it started before that, but I don't want to get into it now. I want to keep walking, moving, reflecting. I know where I'm going, I just don't want to admit it yet. I want to see if I can trick myself. See if there's a way my subconscious and my conscious will knowingly work together, or something.

People…people out in New Vegas were nice but…the men I used to run with were…different. I found out before I left, that I was looking for something. I hadn't really noticed it before, but I was. I got a list together, of the men I had spent quality time with over in New Vegas, only a few, four or so, maybe five but he doesn't count because it was about five seconds. But that's not the point. Point is, I realized they were all abused. All of them had some tragic back-story, some stupid line or phrase, and some stupid moral code. Bullshit in my eyes, but to them it meant the world. It was kind of then, I realized something vital.

No matter how much time I had spent with them, or how hard they made me laugh, none of them lasted. I discarded them as quickly as I had found them without so much as a second glance or thought. None of them were able to make me feel…like he did. Like…Charon. Not one, and that's why I got rid of them. There was always a space, a hurt, that was present and they couldn't make go away. Eventually I got sick of it, threw them out, and found something better, an improvement. None of them were the best, though.

I haven't thought of Charon in…well a while. I feel bad for that, but, I just have been trying not to. It's not that I have any hostile feelings towards him, quite the opposite actually, it's just better this way. Better that we went our separate ways, better that he stayed and I didn't. Charon…he stayed in Underworld after we returned Zack to Gob. He said the people needed him, that he had to stay and keep them safe. At the time I was angry at him, angry that he was going to leave and abandon me.

The parting was bittersweet. I was excited to begin a new life, upset that he wasn't going to be there. In the end, though, turns out he was right. I needed to learn about myself. I needed space to grow and flourish. He needed to stay and keep everything in order. No better man for the job than him, either. I miss him, have missed him, so much that some nights I can't stop crying. That hasn't happened in a while, though.

Over time I taught myself not to miss him. To accept it, really, and ignore the pang of hurt I get when I feel his necklace tugging at the back of my neck. I won't lie, whenever I had sex with someone, I thought of him. I imagined and felt the roughness of his hands, the coarse feeling of his ruined flesh and muscle against mine, and the ecstasy that engulfed me when I felt his lips on mine. It was never the same, though. When I opened my eyes, it was never him, and the feelings were never present. It was stale, sad, I never liked it.

It's been five years, though. When you say it, it sounds long, but when you live it it's different. Look back at five years on your own life. Went by fast, huh? I know it's been a long time, and so doesn't my body, so that's why I came home. I realized I can't…live the rest of my life with loose ends. I have to talk to Gob, talk to…Lucas Simms and the people of Megaton. I have to have run-ins with Roy Phillips and Bessie Lynn. Five years is a long time to wait for someone, and even though I've closed the book on mine and Charon's adventures…I kind of hope he's still going to be there. I hope we can add just one more adventure, before saying goodbye forever.

It's not that I don't want him back, I mean, I haven't thought about it actually. Sometimes you know when something's over and you accept it with no anger or regret. That's what I've done. I haven't dreamt of a reconcile, or even a surprise visit from him because he's missed me so. I've just accepted it was fun, and now it is over. Sure, I want us to spend some time just talking and catching up, but anything further than that, and I don't know. I guess we can see how it goes. I'm sure he's the only one who can make me feel that way, the way I used to while laying beside him under blankets or stars, but…I have hope.

I have hope that there's a human out there, for me, made for me, just for me. Not that I'm bias, but because it's normal. When you're young, you want to be rebellious and reckless, you want to break rules and date strange things. When you're older, you just want someone to be yourself around. That's all I want. It feels like although I know who I am, I'm not myself. The people in New Vegas never knew me, sure they thought they did, but they didn't. They knew a hollow shell of what I once was. Charon's the only one who ever really attempted to figure me out. I like it that way, though.

No matter who is or isn't in our lives now, Charon is special to me and I to him. He knows me, he's seen me and things with me, and the same goes for him and me. We've had fun, we've done wild things, and I'm glad that we have a secret bond. I still have his necklace, too. I plan on giving it back to him, if I see him. The memories are enough, I don't need a token. He can give it to another lady, perhaps Greta. I'll have his memory, the times we shared. But I'm not going out of my way to find him. If it happens, great, if not I'll get around to it. I do miss him, though, a lot.


	3. Long Way Home

The moon is high in the sky, and it reminds me of a simpler time. Well not exactly simple, but, before. Before when Charon and I would walk these grounds with our guns and my cynicism, when all I had was him and whatever I scavenged in my pack. Back then I didn't think it was simple, or good, but now I do. Now, I laugh at the bad times, and tear up at the good. I miss Gob, I miss looking forward to his bar chats, to his smile. I miss the people I met, whether they hate me or not is irrelevant. When I glance over at the river before I enter the city, I can see it shimmer. It's not irradiated anymore. I wonder what's going to happen to the ghouls, to me, when there is no more radiation.

I'm not sure if ghouls need radiation to survive. There wasn't ever any in Underworld, but it's in everything else. Food, and whatnot. I'm sure they don't need it, but it makes me worry. A lot has changed, a lot of things have happened, I'm sure, that I wasn't here to see. In a way I'm sad over that. I'm sad that I missed so much, but at the same time if I didn't get away and do what I did, I don't think I would have survived.

The break and time away made me grow and change. It made me new, helped me figure things out. There's a lot of distractions out here, that would have prevented that. Granted New Vegas is pretty distracting as well, but not in the same way. No one out there asked me for help. No one knew me, and I needed that. But I feel lost, somehow. As if I'm in a dream. As if the past five years have been nothing but a dream. I can go on forever living like this, in the shadows, stalking whomever I want and just being me. But…but I feel like a piece of me is still missing. I'm not sure why, I'm not sure what it is or where to find it, but I know it isn't there. I don't feel whole.

I'm not afraid of being alone, I'm afraid of dying alone. I'm afraid something will happen to me, and no one will know, no one will care. I'm worried, after all this time…Gob and Charon have forgotten me. That they're happy with their lives, with little Zack, and I'm just a figment to them. A fragment, they'd rather forget. Zack…he's about five now, isn't he? Give or take a few months or weeks. I haven't seen him since…since I rescued him from Sara and Gunny. His bright brown eyes stared up at me, his little mouth curved into a smile, I never knew anything could be so small.

He fit into my arms, I carried him the whole way back, an instinct of woman. The infant in my arms…I had the need to care and protect him at all costs. I'm sure my own father felt that way, when he held me, when I was that small. Zack would look up at me, smile, giggle, and grip my fingers with such strength. I knew back then, I had to protect him, that I cared for him. It didn't make me want a child, even now I'm not responsible for one, but it did make me feel like I had a reason, a purpose. Zack was my purpose, his safety and what he promises for ghouls everywhere drove me to save him.

I did run into a few ghouls on my way to New Vegas, but none worth remembering. They're different from the ghouls out here. Angrier, less civilized. I didn't bother to share more than a few words with them. Humans out there hate them, I never told them I was in a relationship with one. I didn't even get defensive over ghouls, when they would bash them verbally. No one but Charon knows…that minus the skin, I'm pretty much a ghoul. The whole radiation thing kind of counts me in the same slot as Zack. In the middle, not quite one, but not quite the other. It's something I'm sure I should be proud of, but it's also something I don't want to share. I've learnt keeping my mouth shut is probably the best option.

Yawning, I kept walking through the city. There's seemingly less Super Mutants around than I remember. I bet it's because they can't breed, and I kind of stifled whatever chance they had way back when at Vault 87. Pretty soon, if that's the case, there won't be any. Actually, I'll be sad when that happens. I won't have anything to shoot at. Not nearly as many Raiders, either. Maybe the Capital Wasteland isn't stuck, and maybe the lack of threats is a sign that they're evolving. They're learning that you don't always have to fight to survive. That's not my style, I realized that back in New Vegas. I like the thrill of a fight, the adrenaline, the sight of blood be it mine or my enemy's. I guess I can't complain, though. After two-hundred years, the world has to start getting better.

For now, I'm tired. I find a safe spot near some rubble and lie down. The stars twinkle above my head in a way they didn't do in New Vegas. It makes me feel at ease, at peace, and okay with everything. I smile up at the sky, lighting a cigarette.

"I am Alpha and Omega…"

I whisper, while my eyes get heavy, and soon, I fall asleep.


	4. Changes

Sleeping on rocks isn't really my forte, but somehow I managed it. Even though I've been sleeping in a warm bed every night, and liking it, the change is nice. It makes me remember who I once was, and the times I spent out here. I was here for the better portion of a year or more, in New Vegas longer, but more has happened here, in the Capital Wasteland. More, that I've wanted to remember.

Stretching, I grab my gun and start walking. Traveling so light has a lot of well, perks. Nothing to worry about, nothing to be concerned with. Just a gun in my hand and the whole world ahead of me. It's all I've ever wanted, all I ever dreamed of. Now that I've actually journeyed to that world, and traveled around, though, it's empty. I want to find something more, now. Something better, richer, something just for me. I don't know what that is just yet, but…I'll know when I find it.

I was able to make it to Dupont Northeast last night. Easy, since there's no Super Mutants to stall me. I'm kind of sad about that, though. I kind of…want to fight one, just to bring back old times. But even if I did find one, it wouldn't be 'old times'. Why? Charon isn't here. In a fight, he'd always have my back. He'd shout and holler things, maybe run a few feet away, but he'd have my back. I miss that. Having someone looking out for me. I've been alone really, for five years. I guess I just never really made the effort to make lasting friends. I killed them. They always screwed me over.

I guess in a way, I've become _very_ bias. I don't trust humans. When I finally made it to New Vegas, I didn't trust anyone, at all. My 'friends' I had made really screwed me, and after that everyone I ran into just was rude. The only person to ever be outwardly and openly nice to me was Gob. Ghouls out here, are far better company than anyone else in the world. There aren't any ghoul Brotherhood, ghoul Raiders, none of that. But then again, there aren't any humans quite like Gob, or Charon, or Bessie Lynn. Still, I prefer the company of the creatures out here, rather than out there.

Maybe I should explain how my 'friends' betrayed me. Just stating it like that makes it sound so one-dimensional, when in fact it's quite in-depth. I have some time, before I get to wherever my feet are leading me, which I know where but I'm playing a game with myself, remember? Alright, here goes.

A few days after leaving the limits of the Capital Wasteland, I ran into a gang of four people. Not Raiders, but tougher than your usual wanderers. Two girls, two guys, me makes five. They were going to New Vegas, too. We won't tell names, since that complicates things and makes me remember they were real people. Actually, we got pretty close. A tight-knit group of us, nearly unstoppable. We knew most of what there is to know about each other, well, they knew what I chose to tell them. Enough to make them trust and like me.

So one day after a couple of months just heading West, we come up with a plan to raid one of the old vaults. It seemed like a good idea, like fun. We'd salvage what we could, and trade it for caps. A few nights later, we put the plan into effect. But of course, the vault wasn't empty. My 'friends' took what they could and left me to my fate. Hell, the ghouls nearly tore me apart. I'm lucky I survived. When I did manage to get out, a few days later, my 'friends' had forgotten me. Literally. I swear they had it planned. They acted like they didn't even know me, or even what they did was wrong. One of them did let it slip that I was 'disposable'. That was it.

I shot them all. They had left me there, stripped me of my belongings, and took off to leave me to die. If I wanted that kind of betrayal, I would have stayed with the Outcasts. That's another story for another time entirely, though. Anyways, they had taken my stuff, left me to die, and then acted like it was all hunky-dory. I killed them for good reason. For good measure. It was then I decided not to trust anyone, not to carry anything but my gun and my caps. I wouldn't have minded if they just took my stuff, and said sorry, but they took my necklace. Charon's necklace.

It was so soon after I had left him, too, that I was still holding on to what could have been, what I still wanted. To me, that necklace was all I had left of him. My Pip-Boy erased all pictures and notes I had collected prior to meeting these people, so I treasured it, but they took it. One of the boys tore it right from my neck, and it took weeks for me to find a spare chain to link the tags to. I couldn't forgive them for that. I was still a crazy bitch. Worse than I ever was out here.

So that's kind of the summary of my 'friends'. After that I never got close to anyone, or let anyone get close to me. My suitors over the past five years have tried to get close, and one even admitted to love me, but…I didn't want him to. I didn't want to love any of them. None of them filled the hole I have inside. Then again, I never really let any of them try. I just kind of blockaded myself from ever feeling anything for another human being. Not that I don't want to, but because I don't feel it's worth it. In the end they're going to leave you, anyways, so what's the point? Figure a good lay and some bits of conversation here and there is all anyone's ever good for. Not that I'm a whore or anything, I'm just blunt.

There's something I'd never admit, too. Something way deep down inside that eats at me, gnawing and churning uncomfortably. I think…that it's the fact I need someone. I do need someone, but I won't let myself have someone. I won't let myself get close or…anything. I miss Charon. I'm afraid of being without him, but I've trained myself over the past few years to not care. Not caring has seemed to benefit me more than caring, and I like it that way.

Five years. Five long, drawn out, seemingly endless but not quite, years. I wonder if Gob looks any different. Do ghouls age like humans? I mean, in the whole looks department. I wonder if they do, I don't know, probably not. I've changed, look-wise. I'm tanner, cleaner, my scars are just white now, and I keep my hair back. I've mentioned that before, but I figured a clearer picture might help. My body stayed tone, trim, fit. It has to out here or you're sure to die by the elements. My hair stayed orange, red, brown, all those nice colors. I've been thinking of dying it, but I figure any other color wouldn't suit my personality as well. Other than that, I've stayed the same. My same almond-shaped eyes, same baby-like nose, same high cheekbones. I guess features like that never change, though.

Looking up at the sky, it's framed by the still-standing decrepit buildings of the city. It doesn't make a design, but it does make me feel right at home. Home, is where the heart is I've heard, and my heart definitely lies here. In this rubble, this chaotic city where danger is supposed to lurk around every corner. Now, it seems it's dead and gone. That the world I once knew, isn't the world I know.

I come to the doors of the Museum of History, and I smirk to myself. I had known all along I'd arrive here, known that my feet would wander to this very spot. I just didn't want to admit it. Figured I could play a small joke on myself, see if I would go anywhere else. Guess not. It looks different, the doors, the building. It looks older, more decrepit, more…well, ruined. Wrapping my hand around the brass knobs, I give it a push. It resists at first, but I'm able to get it open, and take my first step inside.

I'm hit with the smell of musk. It engulfs my nostrils and I go into a sneezing fit. Looking around, I notice the barrel of fire doesn't cast shadows on the lobby like it once did. Walking around the ruined, rotten wooden desk, I venture to the entrance of Underworld, and stare in amazement. It's gone.

The skull that once stood above the doors fell in, there's a hole in the roof to let the sun shine through. Whatever entrance was there, is gone now, collapsed in on itself. I stare at it, sensing I'm not alone.

"It caved in a few years back."

A voice from the shadows says. I look to my left and notice a ghoul leaning against a pile of rubble, smoking a cigarette. Even in the darkness of the shadows he's in, even with his attempt to hide himself, I know it's Quinn. I'm not scared, and I take my hand from my shotgun holster.

"What happened?"

I ask, staring straight ahead, at the remains of the place that I once held in such high regard and respect. The place where Charon and I began.

"Just fell in. Winthrop did all he could, but after the attack, there was no one to keep it up."

"Attack?"

"Five or six years ago, two soldiers came in, attacked everyone with their giant guns, destroyed the place, killed good men, good ghouls."

Sara Lyons, Gunny. I remember now.

"Who died in the attack?"

I know who survived, a little.

"Winthrop, Snowflake, Patchwork, a few other residents. Dr. Barrows and Nurse Graves got out, but hardly."

"Where is everyone now?"

Quinn sighs from the shadows, and I feel his eyes burning into me. I can feel he recognizes me, but doesn't quite remember who I am.

"Dr. Barrows went down to Rivet City to help the scientists. Nurse Graves went with him. They're working fine there, I've heard. Gob lives at Tenpenny Tower with his son, and Carol and Greta went there as well."

They survived. Good. Gob needs his family, now that Nova's gone.

"What about Charon?"

Quinn hesitates before answering. I can tell he's thinking, examining me like…like a piece of meat. A few years ago I wouldn't have minded, but now I do. I don't like when people look at me like that. I don't mean it in the sexual way, but in a weird, stalking way.

"Charon…I don't know. Hear he has a place at Tenpenny Tower, too, but he's never there. He's got himself a family, he freelances to support them."

A family? Charon? How is that possible? Ghouls are supposed to be sterile, unable to reproduce.

"I thought ghouls were sterile? How can he have a family?"

I ask Quinn, probably a bit too inquisitive. I don't want him to know who I am, I don't want him to…tell people I'm back. Anyone I want to know I'm here, I want to tell myself.

"Well not _his_ family, per say. I don't know the details, but on a freelance job he saved this woman and her kid. She felt indebted to him, so she went with him back to the tower. Pretty little smoothskin, cute kid, too."

A family. A real family, jut for Charon. I let out a small chuckle, and shake my head in disbelief.

"Thanks for the help. I'm heading out now."

"Hey, don't I know you from somewhere?"

I look at Quinn, our eyes meet, and I shake my head.

"No, no you don't."

I leave Underworld, or what was once Underworld. I leave the museum and look up at the sky in the middle of the mall. There was once a Super Mutant nest here, but all that remains are the decaying corpses of them. Any piece of salvageable material has been already, and there's no Brotherhood guarding the tower. I've missed a lot, too much, I never should have left.

I still can't believe Charon has a family. Five years ago he swore he wouldn't find someone else, and that romance wasn't his thing. I guess more than just me has changed. I didn't expect him to be waiting patiently for my return, but hell I didn't expect this wrench in the system. I guess seeing him once more is out of the question. I'll go see Gob, go to Megaton, maybe even go to Rivet City…but I won't see Charon. It would bring back too much. Bring back things…that I don't feel need to be opened again.


	5. I Should Have Gone, Too

(Gob)

"Hey! Hey you put that down! Zack!"

Damn kid is always messing with my guns. I have to lock them in the damn room safe because he'll climb any shelves higher than him.

"Daddy!"

He yells at me, and I can't help but smile at the pipsqueak. He may be getting the world served to him on a silver platter, but he's still too young to shoot. Maybe when he's ten, but not now. Damn kid reminds me too much of myself at that age. I'm shocked I even remember that far back.

"Never too early to start showing him how to survive."

I look over at the door to my apartment. Charon stands, covered in dust, with a few spots of blood on his armor. He smokes a cigarette, leaning against the doorframe. He never knocks, it doesn't matter, hell I never have a woman here anyways.

"When the hell did you get back?"

I ask while I pick Zack up. Been planning on taking him outside today, but with the mess he's been making it's hard to get my shit organized. Takes a whole damn army to watch this kid, I swear.

"Just now. Figured I'd drop in and see how the freak show was doing."

"Stop calling him that!"

"I meant you."

I smirk at Charon, and he smirks back. Damn guy never gives a whole smile to anyone. He's changed a lot, since Dezbe left. Dropped the whole 'formal way of talking' and loosed up, hardened up at the same time, too. Never says much to anyone here, outside of me or that damn tramp he's got running around. Since he brought her here, Roy and I been up his ass trying to get him to toss her out. Same old song and dance with him, though. Says she can't survive, he can't throw her out, because she has a kid. My outlook? Fuck 'em. There's Megaton. This place is strictly ghouls only.

I push past him, Zack in my arms, and walk towards the stairs. To my surprise the damn guy follows. Thought he'd want to take off back to his penthouse suite and check on his 'family'.

"Yeah well, why you followin' me?"

I ask him as we walk down the stairs. Charon shrugs, smoking his cigarette, looking around at nothing.

"Daddy! Outside! We're going outside!"

"Yeah, yeah we are."

"Yay!"

I put Zack down once we reach the bottom of the stairs. He takes my hand and walks with me. When he wants to be, he's a pretty good kid. I don't have to watch him too much once we get outside, since the whole courtyard is gated closed. Worse thing that happens is the kid falls on a rock or some shit and scrapes his knees. A dip in some irradiated bathwater usually does the trick.

Zack doesn't look like a ghoul, though. Kid looks like I used to, back in the day. Sure he's got Nova's feminine bone structure and hair, but he's got my eyes and my smile. He's totally human, aside from being healed and immune to radiation, and his strength. Ghouls are a bit stronger than natural humans, Zack has the best of both worlds. Can't be happier for him, either, because the kid is going places. He's a medical marvel, and one day I'll explain it all to him, but for now I let him enjoy being just a kid.

"I want company."

Charon gruffs as I let go of Zack's hand to let him go play in the courtyard. Charon and I take a seat at a small patio table while Zack begins making up adventures for him and his imaginary friends. I feel bad for the kid, aside from the twerp living with Charon he ain't got no friends. Not like the tramp lets her kid play with Zack, anyways.

"What's on your mind?"

It's unusual for Charon to admit he wants my company. Usually he just drops by, stays for some, lingers around, and leaves as fast as he came. I see him shrug, toss away his cigarette, and light another one.

"Things. Old things. You know you're the only one around who knows what I'm talking about."

I nod, knowingly, and glance over at Zack. I know what Charon's talking about, and I owe that fuckin' girl my life. Dezbe. She brought Zack to me, smiling, happy, waving his little arms in the air like he was fighting the Super Mutants and Brotherhood alongside her. I'll never forget that day, when she came back with Charon, holding the bundle that was Zack so close to her. That damn girl has given me more than I could ever repay her for.

Charon never talks about her. In the past I've tried reminding him that the smoothskin he has now isn't the smoothskin he had back then. All that did was piss him off and ignore me for a few weeks. But hell, Charon is the closest thing to a real, best friend I've ever had besides Dez. I respect his wishes to not talk, but now I want him to talk about her. I'm no shrink, but it might do him some good after five years of silence.

"Yeah I hear ya on that one."

The tramp knows about Dez. I let it slip one drunken night to her, all about Dez. Not that she's jealous, but she does get a little angry Charon holds someone else in higher regard than her.

"I go far away on jobs sometimes, I never see her."

I blink and stare at him. He's got this lucid, expressionless stare on his face, and his eyes watch the smoke that curls from his cigarette.

"You look for her?"

It shocks me he would. He's mentioned in passing and in conversation, that whatever happened back then is over, and there's nothing left to wonder about.

"Not necessarily. There are times when I think of her, and hope in a small way, I will at least hear of her. But I never do. It is bothering me, not knowing if she's alive or dead."  
"Why now, all of a sudden, do you care?"

He gives me an angry stare.

"I've _always_ cared, Gob. Just because I don't feel like bearing my soul for your pathetic ears doesn't mean I don't."

"Frankly I'm surprised you can even feel at all."

We've always insulted and attacked one another like this. It's just the kind of relationship we have. It's never serious, though. Sometimes men just need to be men and beat up on one another to prove dominance and relieve stress. Charon always wins though, hell if you've ever seen the guy, you'd know.

"Perhaps it's because I caught wind of something on my way home today."

"What was that?"

"Quinn said he saw a strange girl in the ruins of Underworld a day or two back. He said she looked like Dez, but he wasn't sure who she was."

I shrug it off like it's nothing. If Dez came back to town, we'd hear about it the second she stepped foot on the dirt.

"Just a wanderer. I'm sure wherever Dez is, she's fine."

"One can hope."

I light my own cigarette and scan the area for Zack. He's running around in a circle, throwing rocks every now and again. Not sure what game that is exactly, but hell he's smiling.

"You still love her?"

Charon shrugs, putting his cigarette out in the ashtray on the table.

"I suppose. I will always love her, but too much time has passed. Things cannot be retraced or opened."

"Yeah, I understand. When you leaving next?"

"Day after tomorrow. Have to take a hit on someone in Point Lookout. Pay's good enough so I can take a few days, maybe weeks, off."

"Ah."

Charon freelances as an assassin. Sure I don't agree but hell it's all he knows and he's gotta make a living somehow. Besides, the Capital Wasteland needs someone to keep order, especially since the Brotherhood stopped sending in troops three years back. I don't ask about his work much, and he don't tell me. When we do talk, it's about Nova or Zack or the tramp and the brat he has.

"You kickin' out that shit-tramp anytime soon?"

I ask, loudly, so that anyone around can hear. Charon sighs angrily, glaring.

"No. Her name is Lily, in case you forgot."

"Oh I remember."

"I should go see them. I have not yet informed them I have returned."

"I'm sure they don't miss you."

Charon doesn't say anything as he leaves. I watch him walk back inside, giving Zack a pat on the head as he passes. I don't mean to be rude to the guy, don't get me wrong, it's just I have this suspicion Charon's trying to bring back what he had with Dez. Hell, he'll never get that shit back. I've tried, no one's been able to replace Nova, so I gave up. But then again, I have Zack. All Charon has is…well nothing.

I wasn't there when they parted, but I've heard stories. Charon wanted to stay in Underworld, to protect the people who lived there. Understandable. Dez didn't want to stay, so she left. I hear their parting was sweet, no harsh feelings. I hear they hugged, didn't kiss, and then she left Underworld, and no one has seen her since. Hell no one has even gotten word. Few months back I tried to trace her, but all I ended up with was dead ends and more questions.

Charon wasn't the same after she left. He hardened himself, closed off the rest of the world and went about protecting Underworld. Eventually, Underworld caved in and everyone split. When he showed up here, I could see the regret in his eyes. He said one thing to me, one thing, that told me everything he could never say before.

"I should have gone, too."

That's what he said. That's all he said, before lumbering up to his old apartment. Didn't see him for days, then he comes back down and says he's 'freelancing'. Takes off and returns with that tramp. He don't look at her the same way he looked at Dez, though. Hell I know the bastard cares for the woman, but shit she isn't Dez. I want him to talk to me about it, because even after five long years, the guy still loves her, and he needs to stop. I don't know if Dez will ever come back, or if she's even alive, but Charon can't keep walking around in a stupor. It isn't him.


	6. I've Missed You

I watch Zack run around in the hot sun, playing with random things he finds and picks up. Nothing that can hurt him, just rubbish and broken toys. Some of the ghouls leave the tower, like Michael, and bring back toys for him. Of course, he breaks them. I think he likes them broken. More interesting, plus he tries to put them back together. A few times it works, but not often.

"Daddy!"

He shouts and I sigh.

"What?"

"Someone's here!"

Zack doesn't like strangers. He runs when a visitor comes through the gate if he's outside, and hides behind me. That's exactly what he's doing now, hiding behind me. Usually if Charon's with me he'll hide behind him, crying for 'uncle' Charon to pick him up. Of course Charon does, and Zack stares down at everyone in awe. Charon usually pops him on his shoulders, and walks around with him. Zack's smart, he knows Charon's a better fighter than I am.

"Probably just a trader, Zack, you can go play."

"No daddy! It's a _girl_."

"A girl, huh? Well there can be girl traders, too."

Zack stares up at me from his seat on the ground next to my chair. He's still learning that although boys and girls are different, they can do the same things out here. It doesn't register in his mind. He still things he has nipples because he's going to have a baby. I don't think he's old enough to know just how different girls are than boys.

But a girl around here is pretty uncommon. Aside from Greta, Carol, Bessie Lynn and Lily the Tramp, there's no other women. Ghouls have no need for them, although I'm sure there's sexual tension. I look at the gate as it begins to open, knowing Zack is small enough to see through the cracks. He's the best alarm system when he's outside, he can alert anyone of anything within a matter of seconds.

The gate opens, and sure enough, a girl walks in. She looks around, and my heart stops in my chest. I can't swallow, and I feel the cigarette between my fingers burning. Even after five years, I'll never forget that frame, that walk, that wild hair. It's not wild now, though. Tied back in a pony tail, she's dressed in a Merc Cruiser outfit, and carries only her old sawed-off shotgun on her waist. I can't move. I'm too shocked. I wait for her to see me, her smile tells me it's her.

Dezbe.

"Gob!"

She runs over to me, and I struggle to stand. It's like she's back from the dead. I feel her arms slide around my torso, and her body pressing against mine. It takes a bit, but I'm able to return her embrace. I hold her for a long time, enjoying her scent, the familiar feel of her body in my arms.

"I've missed you so much…"

She whispers, and I kiss the top of her head.

"Hey, kid."

It's all I can fuckin' say. Hell how am I supposed to act? Quinn was right, it is her. It's her, in all her newly-tanned glory. She lets me go, smiling wide.

"How've you been?"

Her question is casual, like she hasn't been gone for five years.

"Me? Good. Great. Uh, Zack, this is Zack."

I motion towards the cowering bundle behind my leg. Dez stares at him in awe and amazement, happy, though.

"Zack, this is my very good friend, Dez. Will you say hello?"

"No."

He takes off down the alley. I shrug and look back at Dez.

"He don't remember what you did for him. I do, though."

Dez doesn't say anything. She looks around the courtyard, at all the furniture and broken toys. Casually she takes a seat, the same seat Charon was in about an hour ago, and lights a cigarette. I'm still shocked she's here, so finding my own seat is pretty fuckin' hard. I manage, though.

"It's been a long time, Gob."

That is has. I stare at her, her tanned skin, her thin frame, her new outfit and the new tone her voice has. She's older now, twenty-five I'd say, and you can see the maturity on her face. Still, she looks like she did the first time she came to Megaton. Once again, I'm happy to sit and chat with her.

"Five years, kid."

"I'm not a kid anymore, Gob."

"No, no I guess not."

It's hard to take this in. An old friend came home after five years. Hell Dez has always been more of a friend to me. She's like my daughter, or sister, or something of that relation. I care for her a lot, always have, and I'll never stop. Without her, Zack would have never been born or survived. I would still be under Moriarty's rule, and hell, I owe he my life. Dez flashes a smile at me, bringing be back into the real-world.

"So…I bet you have a lot to fill me in on, huh?"

"I think you have more explaining than I do, kid."

So she tells me. She tells me everything. It seems like she talks in chronological order. They way she describes it all, makes me feel like for the past five years I've been with her, beside her, helping her through. Of course, she doesn't need help, but I'm sure there's been incidents where she's needed something. A friend, mostly. I can tell when she shifts between events, sometimes her eyes glass over as if she wants to cry, remembering something she refuses to share.

I reach over and take her had midway through her tales. I rub the back of her hand with my thumb comfortingly, and she gives me a sad smile while smoking a new cigarette. She talks of people, of men she met and swooned. She tells me she never cared for any of them, and that she missed home. She tells me that she wanted to come back sooner, but just didn't know how. It worries me, when she talks of missing a part of herself but not knowing where to find it. I can't offer her any advice, hell I don't know what to say. Dez is different from the last time I saw her, different from the first time I saw her.

She has an air of knowledge around her. A presence that seethes confidence, but under that confidence she's still vulnerable. Her eyes tell me she's missed home, that the wear and tear of the world wore her out. I wish I could have been there for her, been there and comforted her like she has comforted me so many times in the past. Her lips moisten as she starts to end her story, talking about the man who brought her here in the back of a truck. Dez has seen so much in her twenty-five years of life, while I'm nearly two-hundred and fifty, and I haven't seen half of it.

"So, then I went to Underworld, saw Quinn, and now I'm here. That's it."

She smiles at me, and I smile back. I squeeze her hand, behind her I see Zack cautiously walking closer.

"You've had quite the five years, kid."

"Yeah, I guess. What about you? Tell me about you?"

"What's to tell? After you left…well I settled down here. Zack and I have been doing well, trying to live, staying out of the limelight. And speaking of Zack I think he's warmed up to you."

I motion behind her and she turns around. Zack stands, peering at her through the back of her chair.

"Are you going to say 'hello' now, Zack?"

"Who is she?"

We laugh at him, Dez and I. It has been far too long.

"She is a very good friend of mine. Her name is Dez. She was a good friend of your mother's, too."

I've told Zack about Nova, just a bit. Enough so he knows that she loved him, and that she only wanted the best for him.

"Hello."

"Hi, Zack. You were this big when I saw you last."

Dez makes a small frame with her hand, smiling down. To my shock Zack climbs up into Dez's lap. He looks at her face, and tugs at a chain around her neck. A necklace comes out from under her shirt, and Zack plays with the tags. I know what they are, more importantly, I know whose they are.

"Zack don't touch!"

I go to swat his hand away, but Dez stops me. She takes off the necklace, and puts it around Zack's neck. He plays with them, the dog tags, and looks over at me.

"Daddy what does it say?"

"Sound it out."

Lately we've been working on actually trying to read, instead of me reading for him. It's working, but only when he wants it to work, or when he's curious enough to try.

"I can't, you do it, daddy."

"It says 'Charon'."

Dez pipes up and she catches my eye. Zack looks from her to me, and takes the necklace off of his neck. Dez takes it back, and puts it back where I think it should always be, with her, around her neck.

"She knows Uncle Charon, too?"

"Yes."

Zack smiles, and tugs at Dez's shirt.

"Uncle Charon just came home, wanna see him? You saw daddy, come see him now. Are you my sister? I think you are."

"No, I'm not your sister."

"Consider her another aunt."

"Okay."

Zack hops off of her lap and goes to play in the old broken fountain in front of the main entrance. Dez smiles at me, folding her arms over her chest.

"He's cute, Gob. Really cute. I'm sure you're proud of him."

"Yeah, I am. But you know as well as I do, I have you to thank for him being here."

Dez shrugs as if it's something she does every day. I smirk at her, and get down to business.

"Do you want to see Charon?"

I expect a yes, I expect her to go find him and pry him from the abusive clutches of that tramp. But she doesn't.

"Actually, no. Well I'm not sure. Not yet."

"What? Why?"

She casts me a sad smirk, and I sigh.

"It's been five years, Gob. I've changed, a lot. I'm sure he has, too. I think whatever happened in the past should be left in the past. It's not that I don't love him, it's just…too much time. You know?"

I can't believe either one of them. I cross my own arms and shake my head.

"Hell no I don't understand. You two sound like one in the same. If I had another shot with Nova, I'd take it, no matter how much time elapsed."

"Gob, don't. Just don't bug me about it. It's over, I'm glad he's well and happy, and you should be happy we all made it out of this world alive."

"Kid, I don't understand either one of you. You do know what he's gotten himself into, right?"

She shrugs, watching Zack play.

"A happy family, or so I've heard."

"Happy my ass! That woman up there, that tramp, Dez she's so vile even you would cringe at her."

"I doubt that."

"She treats him like shit, Dezbe. She walks all over him and all he's done is rescue her and that snot-nosed brat. I suggest you march right up in there and take back what's yours."

"It's been five years, Gob. What, you want me to go and act like nothing's changed? A lot has changed. I've changed. I don't think that's a good idea."

"At least tell me you'll stay here for a few days. We have a lot of catching up to do, and I have a spare bed."

Dez smiles, thinking it over. Finally she nods.

"I can do that. But I don't want a big celebration. I want to keep my arrival under wraps."

"I love you, kid, but I don't love you enough to organize a party with a five-year-old for you."

We laugh together, and for a minute, I feel like its back to old times. Back when she'd come in from the outside, and I'd serve her drinks until all she could do was laugh and laugh. People may not have liked her back then, but hell the damn kid has always been special to me.

"So, tell me more about this tramp."

Dez cocks an eyebrow, and I see a glint in her eye. Maybe all hope isn't lost.

"Vile, vile woman. Walks around here thinking she's better than everyone else. All the caps Charon makes freelancing she soaks up like a dry sponge. Not sure what she spends it on, but hell he works his ass off for meager pay. All I hear from them is arguing, her voice is like knives in your ears I swear. It's horrible, wretched, no one here likes her. Roy and I been tryna get Charon to toss her out and leave her for the Wastes, but he won't hear of it."

"He's a man of morals still? Surprising."

"Yeah, that's what I've been thinking, too."

"She doesn't sound too great."

"She isn't, kid. I wouldn't lie to you."

"I know. You said Charon freelances? When is he leaving next?"

"Day after tomorrow I think. Something about a job in Point Lookout."

Dez nods, her mouth curving into an upside down 'u'.

"Maybe he'll need some help."

"No shit, you'd actually do that?"

"Eh. My bones are rusty. You wouldn't believe the lack of action over in New Vegas. I could use a workout."

I look past her to check on Zack, and see Charon lighting a cigarette in the entranceway to Tenpenny Tower. He hasn't seen her yet. I stand up, making sure Dez doesn't see what I'm looking at, or rather, whom.

"I have to go put Zack down for a nap. I'll be right back."

"Sure, take your time. I'll still be here when you get back."

"Yeah kid, you better be."

I pat her on the head and walk away. Scooping up Zack in my arms, I ignore his childish protests. Getting them back together is my secret mission. Hell I've never done anything for the kid, and she's helped me more times than I can count. The least I can do is try to rekindle what she and Charon insist is over. If it was over, though, then she wouldn't be back here after five years abroad.

"Hey who you talkin' to?"

Charon growls as I approach the doors.

"Go see for yourself, this guy's gotta nap."

"No! No!"

"Yes, you do."

I wrestle Zack in my arms, and carry him inside. Before the door slams shut, I see Charon staring at Dez. He doesn't know yet, but he will.


	7. It All Just Fades Away

(Dez)

Seeing Gob brought back a lot of feelings I didn't know were still alive inside. He still looked the same, exactly the same, and damn that was nice. It's nice to see a friendly face, the way it was as you left it. It relaxed me, and when I hugged him, I felt so safe and comforted. As if he was with me for the past five years. Whatever sadness I felt by coming back…Gob took it away. Seeing an old friend, it's nice. After being away for so long.

I'm excited to be here, actually. It's the last place I called 'home'. The place I spent when I didn't know who I was, the place I last had sex with Charon in. But Charon isn't my reason for being here. I don't want to think he is. I came to see Gob, and I'm going to stay with Gob for a few days, and catch up. I'm not going to go out of my way to find Charon, but if he asks for my help with Point Lookout, hell I'll help. Maybe getting back into the game will make my old bones young again.

Lighting up a cigarette, I close my eyes and rest my head on the back of the chair. Zack's grown up so big. He's so strong and curious. Those big, black eyes of his remind me of Gob, his face looks like Nova's, but he has Gob's smile. He likes me, which makes me happy, and he looks human. I'll ask Gob the gritty details of fatherhood later, when the lights are off and it's just me and him. Not in this blazing sun or heat. Hopefully the tower still provides a good supplement of food, too. I haven't had a Capital Wasteland meal in lord knows how long.

I hear footsteps behind me, but I pay them no mind. Probably a resident. If it was Gob, he would have said something. Being back here is bittersweet. Sure I'm thrilled to see Gob, but I know eventually I'll have to face Charon. Him and his 'tramp' wife, or whatever she is to him. Do people even marry out here? I don't know, I've never witnessed it. Messing with my Pip-Boy, I can hear Three Dog loud and clear. I smile, letting it bring back memories.

"Excuse me, miss?"

I nearly jump a mile into the air. I didn't expect someone to come talk to me. Turning around I look up, and I feel like throwing up whatever is in my empty stomach.

"…Shit."

I mutter. Charon takes a step back, his balance off and uneasy. I stand up, pushing the chair away from me. I probably shouldn't do that, I might need it later, but whatever. Looking up at him, I swallow hard. He hasn't changed. He's stayed exactly the same, exactly as I remember him. It's me, who's changed. Me, who became different. I stare at his dusty armor sprinkled with blood, the cigarette burning in his hand. It reminds me I have one of my own, but I don't care. I look into his white and blue filmy eyes, and I feel my heart skip beats, my knees go weak. I fight off the feelings, mask them behind a brave face.

Too bad…I'm not so brave right now.

"…Dez?"

He whispers, so soft I almost miss that he said my name. I stare at him, and run my fingers through my ponytail. I didn't want to see him right now. I didn't want to see him so soon. I wanted to sit with Gob, talk, warm myself up to the idea of seeing my first and last love. Seeing the first person to make me feel safe, warm, to travel to hell and bring me up to the heavens above. I've never talked about Charon to anyone. I've never thought of our times we shared, unless it was in the privacy of my own mind, when I was alone, without anyone near me. I never let anyone see just how much the man in front of me meant.

And all of a sudden, after five years, and him standing in front of me, it's shattered. I spent five years, learning how to live and cope without him. Trying to convince myself that we were over, that I'd never feel this way again. But here I am, standing in front of him, feeling everything just as fresh and as new as the day we first met in the Ninth Circle

"…Yeah. Yeah it's me."

I mutter, avoiding eye contact. Before I can say anything else, I feel him scoop me in his arms, a public display of affection that five years ago, he would never do. He lifts me from the ground, burying his face in the nape of my neck. I feel his arms pressing against my back, his hand gripping the back of my head. I rest on his shoulder, feeling his heart beating against the palm of my hand as I place it on his chest. He breathes, sending wisps of my hair flying.

"I've missed you."

He mutters, gripping me tighter. I've never heard him be so informal, so casual, so…normal.

"…Yeah…me too."

I can't find the words, I'm too shocked. I'm too much in disarray. I feel him slowly letting me back on the ground, his arms releasing their grip. A part of me doesn't want them to go, but the mature part of me cancels that out. It's over, Dezbe. It's over. Charon looks at me, examining my face, looking me over. It has been five years. Five long, long, years.

"I thought you were dead, Dez."

"What? Me, dead? No. The world isn't _that_ lucky."

I say, smiling a bit, and I start toying with my ponytail.

"What made you come back? Where have you been?"

I sigh, trying to avoid his eyes.

"I uh, kind of just told Gob everything and don't want to repeat it right now. Uh, I guess I just missed home."

"I thought you hated it here?"

"Home is home is home, Charon."

Saying his name aloud, saying it to him…it's new, fresh, clean.

"We have a lot to talk about."

He tells me, and I nod.

"Yeah…I know. I guess I have a lot to explain, but so do you."

"Yes. I do."

Without hesitation, I remember the necklace, and grab the chain around my neck. Unclasping it, I hold it out to him.

"I came to…give this back. I figured…you might want it."

He stares at it dangling in my hand, shimmering in the sun.

"I can't believe you kept it…"

I nod, and push it towards him.

"It's yours, take it. I didn't come here…for recollection. For reconciliation. I came here to get closure. Now that I have it, I want to give it back."

I glance up at him, his eyes. There's a glint, a glint I recognize but don't want to acknowledge.

"I would prefer if you kept it."

"Charon!"

I sudden loud screech makes me jerk my hand back. I look behind Charon, and see a beautiful woman with long, blonde hair. She catches my eyes, and I feel angry. For a minute, we stare at one another, before she storms over and grabs his arm.

"Who's this?"

She demands, and I slip the necklace into my pocket.

"Uh, Lily, this is Dez. Dez, this is Lily."

"His girlfriend. I've heard of you, Dez."

She spits my name out like a bad taste. I look up at Charon, and I suddenly realize what those songs about heartbreak mean. Leaving him five years ago was never as painful as this. I guess no matter how over someone you are, seeing they're with someone else still hurts.

"Wish I could say the same about you."

I spit back, masking my emotions. I cross my arms, and look her up and down. She is beautiful, and not tainted with scars like I am. Not tainted with anything, like I am.

"Right well, what brings you back here?"

She holds Charon's arm like she'd die without it.

"Dez came to see old friends."

Charon tells her. His voice is different when he speaks to her, like he's walking on eggshells. Seeing them together is a bit more than I bargained for.

"Yeah."

I agree.

"Well, now that you have I suggest you pack your things and scurry on out of here."

Lily smirks at me, and I smirk back.

"Actually I'm staying with Gob. I was just about to go up and see him, too. It was nice seeing you again, Charon."

I move past them, but the old me peeks through, and I have to let it come out for the fun of it.

"Oh, Charon? If you still want to get together again tonight, I'll be in Gob's apartment."

He never said a damn thing about getting together, but it's my little revenge. The look on Lily's eyes as I walk away, the look on Charon's face, is totally worth it. Pushing open the doors to the tower, I leave Charon with the demon-wench from hell and begin my climb up the stairs.

Ghoul residents stare at me. They whisper among themselves, I hear my name every once in a while, but I don't care. I need to see Gob. I need a stiff drink and a long smoke. I need to clear my head. I remember now, why I left this place. My head feels so clouded when I'm here. So foggy and…horrible.

I find Gob's apartment and let myself in. He's sitting at a desk, and I notice Zack sleeping in a small bed. The room is cool, refreshing from the hot, sticky air outside. Gob looks at me, and I smirk.

"So I just met Charon's new trophy wife."

Gob rolls his eyes and turns away from me. I slide down the door, sitting on the floor in front of it.

"I take it she didn't like you."

He says but I ignore him. Blankly, I stare off into space. It's been five years. Five years. I spent so much time telling myself that it was over, that I didn't feel anything but an old fondness for Charon. But seeing him…so suddenly…seeing him with her…tears me up inside. Like a Yao Guai came from nowhere and turned me into its breakfast lunch and dinner. I feel tears shine up in my eyes, making everything blurry and translucent. I spent five years lying to myself, to mask what was really there. As mature as I've become, when it comes to Charon, I'm that little nineteen-year-old girl again, looking for someone to save her. Looking for…for someone to care.

"You alright kid?"

I turn my head towards Gob, and blink, letting the tears slide down my face.

"…I didn't expect this, Gob."

I whisper, because I'm scared of waking Zack. Because I can't speak any louder than that. I wipe tears from my cheeks. I haven't cried in years, since before I left this place the first time. It feels different, it feels good, to let it out. I'm still resisting, but…but I know I have to do it.

"Hey, kid, hey…"

Gob gets up and walks over to me. He sits beside me, and cradles me in his arms. I feel like a kid. Like an immature little brat, crying on her best friend's shoulder.

"I didn't want to come home to this…"

I tell him, my hand on his arm. He rubs my shoulder, trying to comfort me but it's not working. It's been so long, it feels like forever. I wanted to come here and be happy, feel happy, and I did. But I had to ruin it by seeing him, seeing Charon with that witch of a woman. I didn't know it would hurt this much, that old wounds could come back so fierce.

"Kid, hey it's alright…"

I shake my head at Gob, letting the tears come out as quietly as I can.

"I…I thought it would be _different_. Five years…and…so much and…"

"If you were really over him, would you be crying right now?"

I look into Gob's brown eyes, and I realize he's right. I shake my head, wiping my cheeks.

"I guess…you're right. It's been…so long though…I thought I'd be okay."

"Well obviously you aren't. What are you going to do?"

Gob seems hell-bent on getting me back together with Charon. He helps me to my feet, and I sigh and look around the room. He hands me a cigarette and I'm thankful for that. I need a drink, too, but I'll get that later on. I'll go down to the small bar and order a whiskey. I need something stronger, but whatever. I put the cigarette in my mouth, and Gob lights it.

"I don't know, Gob. He has a family, and hell…it's still been too long."  
"Not his family. Some other guy's."

"Gob…"

I sigh and he turns and tosses his lighter on the desk. Turning back to me, I can tell he's serious.

"Listen here, kid. I lost the one woman I ever loved. Hell if I had a shot with her again, I'd take it, I've told you this. You have a prime shot at someone you loved, and still love. Dez for all you know, you could never have this shot again. You might not ever find someone again."

"I know, Gob. I know, okay? Just…I need to be alone."

Gob nodded, and I left. God knows where I'm going. Away from here, for now anyways. I need to clear my head, clear whatever is going on. I leave the tower, not for good, but for a little. I venture out into the courtyard, and look around. It's all the same, just as I left it. Maybe a little older, a little more ruined, but it's still here. My friends are here, somewhere. Charon. I had someone waiting this whole time, I just didn't know it.

The way he looked at me, looked like a wounded dog. It was…it was saddening but still bright. I felt so happy to see him, my heart raced so fast I thought it would stop completely. I never thought I'd feel that way again, never thought I'd have those emotions. But they were there, inside of me, alive and new. I remember the first night we spent together, and the bruise that formed around my wrist. He saved me twice that night, saved me more times after. He's always had my back in a fight. Always there whenever I called or needed him. He's here now, maybe not in the same way, but he's here.

Maybe Gob's right. Maybe I should pursue him once again. Once, I believed love was all I ever needed. I hated being alone, I needed someone constantly, all the time, I needed him. I had always hoped love was real, and it was. For me, anyways. But no, now he has a family. A girlfriend who's gorgeous and beautiful, a kid who I've never met. Me? Me I'm Dezbe. I've been with other men since him, I'm covered in white scars and I've got a past. But…I don't know. It would be so wrong of me to take him. I can't do that to someone.

"Dezbe, right?"

I hear from behind me. Turning I see Lily, Charon's beautiful girlfriend. Her blond hair blows in the wind, and she wears a light pink pre-war dress. She's prettier than I could ever hope to be.

"Actually it's just Dez."

I won't let her see my emotions. I'm going to put up my tough side, make her think that I'm badass, that I don't care. When in reality, all I want to do is run up to Charon and cry my eyes out.

"Right, whatever. I need to speak with you."

She walks towards me and I know it's all business. I toss out my cigarette and cross my arms in front of my chest. Lily walks over, and stops a few feet in front of me.

"I came to tell you to keep your slimy paws away from Charon."

I smirk at her, shaking my head.

"You're kidding me, right?"

"I know what type of woman you are, I've heard the stories. I don't need you coming back here and messing up the greatest thing I've got."

"I don't know you, Lily, and frankly you're not making a great impression on me. But trust me, the _last_ thing I want is Charon back."

Lie.

"Oh, right, because you came back here for nothing."

"Actually I came to give this to him. Here, you take it back. I'm sure you'll have more use of it than me."

I reach into my pocket and pull out the necklace. Thrusting it into her hand, I snarl at her. What a fucking bitch, man.

"What is this?"

She asks, toying with the necklace.

"Ask Charon. Its part of his past. I'm sure he's told you all about that, though."

I see in her eyes he hasn't. I know more about him than she could ever dream. I know everything about Charon, I have history and memories with him, but…they can never be relived. I guess this is what it's like, when it all comes crashing down. Lily gives me a snotty glance and storms away from me, leaving me standing with nothing. I have nothing of Charon's now. Nothing to have, to hold on to. I have no more reason to be here, but I don't want to leave. I don't know why.

The memories we shared should be just that, memories. Nothing more, nothing less. They should never be relived or any of that ever again. Even though I know this, I can't accept it. I don't want to lock them away. I've kept them as far from me as I can imagine, for five years. Now, with it all spread out in front of me, I can't seem to lock them away again.

"Fuck. I need a drink."

I mutter to myself, and head back inside.


	8. As Your Lover, Your Friend

Wine makes my insides warm. It makes me tingly and silly and giggly all over. I'm on my third glass, hardly enough to get me drunk. The bartender gives me looks, but fuck him. I have caps to spare, more than enough, and I have emotions to tame. Sobriety never held much for me, anyways.

Sipping my wine, I close my eyes and slam the drink down.

"Another."

I demand, and he complies. A ghoul pours me another glass, and I give him a few extra caps for putting up with me. With no windows in this room, I don't know what time it is. Clocks seem to be a thing of the past, and even though I don't care, I need to know the time. I like knowing the time. I take a sip of my drink once more, and lick my lips. Wine is always good, when it's old as dirt. It ages, the taste is better, the alcohol stronger.

I close my eyes and remember Charon. Remember the nights we had amazing sex and how nothing on this Earth can compare to those nights. The scar above my right eye is a constant reminder of what Charon and I have been through, how he stood by me even when I was reduced to nothing. How he never gave up, when I should have been dead. Tears well under my eyelids, but I shove them back. Not now, no. I'm trying to block it out. I have to get over him, forget him, no matter the cost.

"Dez?"

I hear and open my eyes. Turning around, Charon is a few feet away. His arms are at his sides, the look in his eyes makes me sad inside.

"Yeah?"

I slur, putting my wine down on the bar.

"Can we talk?"

I purse my lips and narrow my brows. When I get drink, or tipsy, I get a bit silly and a case of verbal diarrhea.

"No! Your girlfriend said…she said…no talking to you."

I lean forward a bit too much, and stumble off the barstool. Charon catches me in his arms, and I look up at him. He's still there, ready to catch me, ready for anything.

"Dez, please?"

I grip his arms in my hands, trying to steady myself. I burp loudly, and nod.

"Yeah, sure whatever…"

"Come on, not here."

He pulls me to my feet, and I stumble alongside him, flailing my arms in the air for no apparent reason. I enjoy drinking, it makes everything better, I don't have to remember I'm alive. Charon leads me through the bar, and into the lobby. He brings me outside, and I realize it's night.

"Ohhh! It's _dark_!"

I exclaim, twirling around and landing on the broken fountain. I stare up at the sky, as Charon takes a seat beside me.

"Maybe we should wait till you're coherent."

His suggestion makes sense, but when I'm sober I won't want anything to do with him. So I shake my head, and pretend I know what the hell is going on.

"No. No I'm good."

I try my hardest not to slur, my hardest not to cry, as I look at him under the moonlight.

"Alright…well…I suppose you've seen a lot in your travels. Where did you go?"

"New Vegas. Saw a lot. Nothing worth remembering."

"Ah."

It's awkward when it's quiet. Charon nervously looks around, and I frown.

"Do you love her?"

I blurt out. Charon jumps a bit, but looks at me. I look at the ground, I don't want to see his face.

"In a way, I do. But…it's not the same."

Reality hits me hard. I don't feel so happy, so drunk, so free anymore.

"Yeah…she treat you alright?"

"I suppose. We fight a lot, there's not really much sexual interaction but…I suppose that is better."

"Yeah."

"I have…missed you since you left."

"Ditto."

Hearing he loves her hurts me inside. It rips and tears and bleeds and I want to cry. My life is supposed to have some awesome ending, isn't it? It's not supposed to end with me all alone.

"Do you have someone?"

He asks, and I shake my head.

"No. Anyone I was with…wasn't worth keeping around."

"You've had other men?"

"It's been five years, Charon."

"Yes but…it seems much shorter."

I shrug, still not looking at him. I'm trying not to look at him, I don't want to. It hurts too much.

"I'm fine on my own, you know. I learnt how to live alone."

I tell him.

"I assumed you would."

"You left me, you know. You let me go. You could have come with me."

We both know if he had done that, things would be a lot different. Things wouldn't be the same, and maybe that's how it was supposed to be.

"I thought we went over this? We both decided it was for the best."

"I was alone, for so long, without you. I'm not mad at you for it, I'm not mad at myself for it. It's just different. We were so close…"

"Yes. We were."

'Were' means past. It means it once was. It means…not anymore. I turn so he can only see the back of my head. I don't want him to see the tears that leaked through.

"It's not the same anymore, is it, Charon?"

"No."

"Is this what you wanted to talk about? To rub it in my face that you're happy with another woman while I'm still alone?"

"No one said I was happy, Dez."

I smirked, shaking my head. Turning back to face him, I sighed.

"You love her."

"Yes but I am not happy. It is a constant fight. Her fits and whatnot…I do not know how to deal with them. Perhaps if she gave me something in return, it would be easier."

"Not getting laid must be hard."

Charon smirks. I've never seen him smirk before. I smile at him, and it feels good.

"I have missed your smile."

He tells me, and it makes me smile more.

"I've missed a lot of things about you, too. When I first left and got into a few scuffles, I missed hearing you with me, behind me, having my back. I got cold at night, and missed having you for body heat."

Charon nods, and his hand accidently grazes mine. The physical contact sends shudders up my spine, down my spine, everywhere. It doesn't last, though, because he moves his hand away.

"We have a lot of good times together."

He says, looking away.

"Charon?"

"Yeah?"

"Did you miss me?"

"Of course I did. Each day, I worried about you, thought of you, wondered where you may be."

"I gave you back your necklace."

"Lily has it."

"Right. Well, that's kind of the only reason I came here for."

I get up off the fountain and turn to him. There's only so much hurt I can take in one day.

"I understand."

"I'm going to go to bed now, Charon. Goodnight."

I turn away from him, I don't want to look at him anymore.

"Wait, Dez?"

I stop, and look back at him. He stands, his body silhouetted by the full moon behind him.

"Yeah?"

"I am leaving soon, for a job on Point Lookout. For old times' sake, will you join me? It would be nice, to have you fight alongside me again, just one last time."

I think it over quickly in my head. Alone, with Charon, for an undisclosed amount of time. Maybe it's not such a bad idea. Getting back into fighting bad things might be just what I need, too. I nod, and he walks towards me.

"Yeah, I'll help."

He seems relieved at my answer. He stands close to me, inside my personal space box. I don't mind. It makes my heart beat fast, makes me higher than any form of Jet ever did. Charon looks at me, in the pale moonlight, and smirks.

"I've missed you, Dez."

"I know."

There's no physical contact, no kiss goodnight, just a simple nod on both ends and a walk back inside. Charon takes the elevator, I take the stairs. He's going back to the apartment we once shared together. Back to the bed we had sex in five years ago. Back to his girlfriend, the woman who now holds his heart. If there was ever a glimmer of hope that we'd reconcile and fix things, it's gone now. It's gone when he steps into the elevator, with me watching. Gone when he hits that button, and returns to the girl upstairs. She's won, and that's okay. As sad as it makes me, and as hurt as I am, I have to let go. If I don't it might due me in.

As I slip back into Gob's apartment, I notice he's sleeping on a small bed, leaving his bed open for me. I slide out of my armor, down to my underwear, and beneath the covers. I'm not tired, I won't sleep, but I need to relax. I'll leave with him to Point Lookout, leave and come back. What happens there will just be us doing a job, splitting the caps, and coming home. I won't stay at the tower when we come back. I'm not sure where I'll stay, exactly, but it won't be here. I miss Gob, but I can't stay, knowing Charon is a thin floor above me. Knowing he's kissing, and loving someone, while I'm alone.


	9. Forever, and After

(Charon)

The elevator jerks beneath my feet. It doesn't stifle the thoughts in my head. Nothing today, seems to stifle the thoughts in my head. Five years, it feels like forever, since she's been gone. I have changed so much, and she has as well. Seeing her again…brought back emotions, feelings, things I buried long ago. My heart raced as I swept her into my arms. I wanted to absorb into her, kiss every inch of her face. Ironically, the only scar that seems to still be prominent on her body, is the one on her neck. The one I gave her.

The pink missing squares of skin disappeared, vanished a pale white underneath her tanned frame. Seeing her…brought back memories. Of course, Lily isn't the least bit thrilled with her return, but she has nothing to worry about. Dez made it clear she does not want reconciliation. I, on the other hand, do. I love her, I always have, and I promised her so long ago I would wait for her. I didn't hold up my end, but she held up hers by returning.

Stepping off the elevator I make my way back into my apartment. Years ago, Dez and I once stood here, in this room, laid in that bed. I kissed ever inch of her body, caressed every curve she had, that night so long ago. Five years is a long time to be away from someone, and even longer to continue to love them. I love Dez, but I feel we both understand it is over, and it can never be.

"Where were you?"

Lily demands as I close the door behind me. I do care for Lily, love her even, but it is not the same love as I feel, or felt, for Dez. It is a compassion love, one that is felt when you find a stray dog starving on the side of the road. It is not the intense passion love that I felt with Dez.

"I had business to attend."

"You went to see her."

"Yes. I had a business proposition, and she agreed."

Lily storms over as I sit on the edge of our bed, unlacing my shoes.

"What? What proposition?"

"Dez is accompanying me to Point Lookout. I need the help."

"Bullshit! You don't need _any_ help! You just want to be alone with her!"

She's right, but I will not admit it. I want to be alone with Dez not to rekindle things, but to get to know her once more. See how much she has changed, see if she still will look to me for comfort.

"The job is large, I need help."

"Why not ask me?"

I almost laugh at her suggestion, but I hold back.

"You're about as good with a gun as Zack is."

"I can do it if you show me."

"No. Relax, Lily, you have no worries. Dez did not come here for me."

"Then what _did_ she come here for then, huh?"

I shrug, taking off my boots and beginning the process of unstrapping my armor. Perhaps I will have Bessie Lynn repair it before I leave. It could use some maintaining.

"I don't know. Ask her."

"I don't want to talk to that…_filth_."

I glance up at Lily, my hands mechanically finding and working straps. I never like it when people insult Dez. Never have. Even though it has been half a decade since I saw her last, she is still important to me. I know that arguing with Lily will probably create more mess than it's worth. So I don't argue, I ask.

"Why do you hate her so much?"

Sliding the armor from my body, I toss it to the ground and rest my elbows on my knees. Lily paces in front of me, her Sexy Sleepwear swaying behind her. Dez never wore any of that nonsense. She was either dressed, or naked, no in-betweens.

"Because…she…she's just _vile_ okay? I heard of her, and you, before I even met you. You turned out quite different but she…she reeks of disgust."

"I don't think that's scientifically possible."

"And what do you know about science?"

"More than you."

I mutter under my breath as I kick my boots away from my feet. She didn't hear me, and I didn't want her to. Her bitching gets on my goddamned nerves. At least when Dez bitched it was to me, and not _at_ me. There's only so much of Lily I can take. I love the woman, but please, shut _up_ already.

"Well Charon, I don't like her, and I don't want you hanging around her."

"We're leaving for Point Lookout soon."

"Well, in the meantime, ignore her. Shun her. And while you're over there, make sure you keep your distance."

Lily thinks I'm going to leave her for Dez. I shake my head, and light a cigarette.

"Go outside if you want to do that!"

She practically shouts, waking the whole floor I'm sure. But, sadly, I listen. I take my ass outside on the balcony, shutting the door behind me. I smoke more now because Lily can't stand it and it gets her off my ass for a few minutes. I need the quiet, the alone time, especially now.

I rest my elbows on the banister, peering over the edge. If only Lily knew. If only she knew that five years ago, I shared this room with Dez. If only she knew half the shit Dez and I did together. She won't know, though, and I won't tell her. I won't leave her, either. As much of a pain in the ass as she can be, she is still something to me. I love her, and she needs me. I'm not sure if the feelings are reciprocated, but I don't care enough to find out.

Dez once said she'd follow me until I loved her. She said it, one night, when we were alone. Here, she said it, I believe. I never told her I loved her. Never once let the words fall from my lips. I regret that now, perhaps if I had told her, she wouldn't have left. Or I would have gone with her. Thinking back, I realize there are so many things I would have done differently, that would have drastically changed the future. I can't live in the past now, though. I have never lived in the past, starting now would be backtracking.

From Roy's open balcony door some yards away, I hear the Ink Spots playing on Three Dog's station. The music is subtle enough for it to seem like background noise to my thoughts. Dez has been absent for five years, I never gave up on her, though. Always, I thought of her, and kept her memory alive by well, freelancing. It is strange, I know, but in her own way, Dez loves killing. Be it for good or bad, she loves it. With each person I killed, I thought of her, and hoped she returned.

I did not anticipate finding romance. I didn't anticipate finding Lily. God knows what I was thinking when I agreed to bring her here, but I felt I had to. I felt obligated to. I cannot kill a woman with a child. It has nothing to do with my training, but with my own morals. Morals. I hate them. They keep me from trying to pursue anything with Dez. Even though she says she isn't here for me, there's something in her eyes that tells me there's still hope.

But I cannot leave Lily. I cannot be that man who runs from his family, no matter how dysfunctional it may be. Lily is not my biological family, nor are we married, but she depends on me. Leaving her for Dez would be against what I believe. I have to stick it out with her, until she decides to leave me.

Glancing down, I see a figure walking around the courtyard. It doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure out the woman walking in their underwear is Dez. At least that hasn't changed. She still has no restraints on what she wears, and for some reason, I'm happy about that. By looking at her and hearing her speak, I can tell she's changed so much. Changed in ways that…I would have never guessed. Knowing there is still a part of her that I'm familiar with comforts me.

As the music plays, I can tell Dez hears it. I see her, twirling, moving to the beat, and silently I watch. I gave myself to that woman years ago. Devoted all my time and energy to her. I'm not angry she chose to leave, in fact I'm proud of her for doing it. Had she not, she would not have grown so much. I'm mad at myself, for not trying harder to wait. I should have waited. I should have…done so many things differently. But I did not. I must reap what I have sewn, no matter the consequences. I love Dez, I have always loved her, and now I cannot have her.

She stops dancing, stops with the music, and looks around. I wish I could leave, go down to her and speak with her. About what? I do not know. She is not he same person as she was five years ago, but then again, neither am I. Both of us have changed drastically, both of us have witnessed things alone, that I'm sure we would like to forget. I frown, getting angry over the thought that there were times when she was hurting or upset, and I could do nothing for her. For five years, I was absent from her life, and it angers me.

Throwing my cigarette off of the balcony, I do not head back inside. Rather, I lean on the banister, and watch her as she paces. Her arms wave in the air, as if she's talking to herself. The moon casts silver shadows over the courtyard, and her frame vanishes and reappears by them. I smirk, remembering the times she smiled at me, remembering the times when I had her back in all the troubles she seemed to stumble upon.

Suddenly, she stops. She look up at the balcony, at me. I freeze, hoping she doesn't see me. It's hard not to, I'm pretty noticeable. But she doesn't do anything. I can't read her facial expression, it is too dark and she is too far, but she stares up, looking, watching. I'm so close to her now, but I can't talk to her. Lily made it clear, and I do not wish to hear her insistent bitching.

Sighing, I push myself off of the banister. I turn away from Dez, knowing now she can see me clear as day. I turn my back to her, with a heavy heart. It has been too long. What we had needs to remain in the past, no matter how tempting the future is. I am about to turn the doorknob to reenter my room, when I feel something hit the back of my head. It hurts, and it angers me. It's a rock. I bend down, picking it up as I rub the back of my head. What the hell?

Walking back over to the balcony, I glance down. Dez waves her arms at me, and throws another rock. It barely misses my head, and lands against the wall with a thud. She still has a good arm. I smile down. She beckons for me, waving her hands back and forth. I shake my head, and toss the rock in my hand at her. She watches it as it bounces at her feet, and flips me the finger. Dez. Somewhere underneath all those changes and maturity, she is still the girl I remember. She's still herself, just older now, more mature.

I want to run down there, run and embrace her and tell her she can hold on to me for as long as she wants, but I don't. Rather, I wave, shaking my head, and turn away. This time, a rock does not hit me. No rocks come flying up, and I'm able to open the door and walk back into my apartment.

"What does this stupid necklace mean, anyways?"

Lily asks as I enter, holding my dog tags high in the air.

"Long story."

I tell her, taking my belt off. Dez, I'm sorry.

"_She_ brought them back here."

"I'm surprised she kept them."

And I am. I figured she might have lost them, she always lost things. But she didn't. She kept them this whole time, whilst I had nothing to remember her by. Sliding myself under the covers beside Lily, I watch as she carelessly tosses my tags onto the nightstand beside her. When I wrapped them around Dez's neck, we had just finished having sex. She was so thrilled to have them. She didn't discard them.

"You know, Charon, I think you should be grateful to me."

I roll my eyes as I turn the lights out. I am exhausted and not in any mood for this.

"Why's that?"

"Because I'm a beautiful smoothskin. No ghoul could ever get me, but you did. I'd say I'm an upgrade over Dez."

"I'd beg to differ."

"What?"

"What?"

Lily is smart, but she's also dumb. I can say whatever I want, so long as I follow it by a 'what'. She forgets I even said anything in the first place.

"I thought you said something."

Told you.

"No. Goodnight."

"You're not seeing her tomorrow."

"I'm not staying in this room all day."

"Then we'll go out together."

I sigh, and roll away from her.

"If that's what you wish."

"It is. I'll plan a day. Get out of the tower for a bit."

"Yes."

I just want her to shut up, so that I may close my eyes and think of ways to…to do what, I'm not sure. Evaluate my life, perhaps.


	10. This Can't Be The End

I couldn't sleep last night, so I went outside. I went to look at the balcony where I once laid naked. Charon was there. I tried to get him to come talk to me, come and comfort me, but he didn't. Tears were coming from my eyes, and I damnit all I wanted was some goddamned reassurance. But he didn't give it to me. He turned his back, and left me there. Fuck him.

After five years, I've become so independent, it's scary. I don't need him. When he did that…last night…it hurt. It hurt because it showed me he chose her over me. Even with our history, he chose her over me. I wasn't going to try anything, I wasn't going to do anything. I just wanted someone to…to tell me it's all okay. I felt so sad, so lonely last night. For a minute…I wanted to pretend I never left. That Charon and I weren't separated by walls and rivers and mountains, and that the past five years never happened.

So I went back inside. I went inside and cried my sorry ass to sleep. Why? Because even after five years, he still makes me go weak at the knees. He still makes me feel like that nineteen-year-old hellion I used to be. I just wanted to pretend I was, for a minute. I just wanted to feel him…close to me…like he used to be.

"Do you always eat cigarettes for breakfast?"

Gob asks me as he sets Zack down on the ground. I woke up before them and came outside for some air. To clear my head. I didn't think to eat.

"Huh? Oh, no. I mean…I don't know."

I smirk and Gob sits down.

"Remember, Zack, _no_ leaving the grounds."

"Kay!"

Gob looks back at me with a sheepish grin on his face.

"Kid asked to leave the grounds this morning after you took off. He's gonna want to adventure just like you and Charon."

"Yeah."

I don't even know what I'm agreeing to. I just feel like…I'm going through the motions of being alive at this point. I feel so old on the inside. With all that I've witnessed since leaving the vault, I feel like I'm ready to close my eyes and die like an old woman. Sometimes…life out here gets too hard. But I've spent so long making myself so independent and free of emotions, that I don't see the need for them. At least, I thought I didn't.

"So did you talk to Charon last night?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah. Didn't go well. I am going with him to Point Lookout, though."

"Well that's great! Wait, what do you mean it didn't go well?"

I shrug, inhaling the smoke from my cigarette.

"Both agree it's better off left…well, in the past."

Gob's eyes meet mine, and I tear myself away from them. I can't bear to look anyone in the eye right now.

"Why's that?"

Before I can formulate a decent reply in my head, I see the doors to the tower open. Gob turns around, and we both look as Charon, Lily, and a small girl-child holding Lily's hand walk out. Lily's free hand is clasped tightly over Charon's, and they walk close together. He has his shotgun on his back, and they walk past the broken fountain.

"Hey Charon."

Gob says, and Charon gives him a nod, but overlooks me entirely. He didn't even glance in my general direction. But Lily did. I had to hold myself back from clawing her perfect eyes out. They leave through the Tenpenny gate, and I poke out my cigarette only to light up a new one.

"Fuckers."

I snarl, shaking my head. Gob stares at me, bewildered.

"Did he just snub you?"

"Yup. Seems that way."

"Stupid tramp."

I look at Gob, my eyebrow raised in curiosity, my mouth letting out a small laugh.

"How is him snubbing me her fault?"

Gob shrugs.

"She probably bitched him out, made him do it. Don't think Charon would snub you out of his own free will."

Remembering last night, I shake my head but don't say anything. Last night, Charon snubbed me. I was pretty vulnerable then, too. He could have taken me and run away from this place, away from it all. Isn't that what I've always wanted, too? Always wanted to run away with him, to some far-off and unknown place? I guess some things never really change.

It doesn't matter though. Last night before I fell asleep, I decided that I was no longer going to let anything Charon did bother me. He's not willing, and I'm not complying. I came back, didn't I? Sure it took forever and a day, but I did it. Least he could have done was wait another few months before he hopped in bed with the nearest thing with a pulse. Hell I broke off all relations before I came back, and I know why. Because even though I didn't want to admit it, some part of me still hoped Charon and I would have a chance. Now, it seems like bitchy Dez is going to have to come out. If I'm going to survive Point Lookout with him, that is.

"Dez?"

The sound of my name causes me to blink, and I look at Gob.

"Yeah?"

"I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"…Trying to get you to talk to Charon again. Hell I know that it's been a long time but when I remember you two together, it was good. It fit. You two always seemed like you balanced one another out, and hell if you needed each other. I was just trying to help you because you've helped me."

"It's not your fault. I appreciate your effort, but really Gob, don't try to repay me for anything. Charon and I…it's great it happened, but it's better in the past."

"How you plannin' on makin' it through Point Lookout?"

I shrug, flicking some ash from my cigarette.

"I guess just going with the flow. Get in, kill who needs to be killed, get out."

"And then what?"

"What do you mean?"

"What do you plan to do after that?"

You know, I never thought of that. I could take care of some unfinished business I have here. With Megaton and all. Maybe look into what became of the Jefferson Memorial, and visit Dr. Barrows in Rivet City. I'll probably end up taking off the second we get back into the Capital Wasteland, and tell Charon to give Gob some goodbyes for me. I sure as hell won't let myself feel abandoned by Charon again, though. This time, I'll leave before he can say anything. I'll ignore anything that he says that might hold meaning to me in Point Lookout, and generally not give a fuck. Works out best that way, it seems.

I do miss him, though. I miss hearing his voice at night, miss knowing he's beside me when I get scared. I thought about him when I first left, thought a lot about him. But over time, I kind of let him go away. I convinced myself I didn't need him, or anybody for that matter. Coming back here brought a lot of unwanted emotions and feelings, things I had tried so hard to forget. Last night I didn't dream. I didn't even sleep well. I tossed, turned, and felt scared. Scared like when I was on my own for the first time. I kept thinking someone was going to get me, that the darkness was going to engulf me forever. I wanted Charon to appear, and make it go away. Stop the pain I felt. He never did, though.

I can't be angry at him. I mean I did leave, and stayed away for five years. I shouldn't have expected him to…still be waiting. When I was alone, in New Vegas, sometimes I'd hear his voice in my head. Comforting, relaxing, telling me things would be alright. That I was brave, strong, and could get through whatever inner battle I was fighting. It always helped, closing my eyes and formulating an image of him. I knew it wasn't real, but it helped get me through some tough times. Before, that is, I decided to just get over him. Or at least, pretend I had gotten over him.

"I don't know, Gob. Probably finish up some business, and go wherever my feet take me."

"You don't get scared goin' off on your own?"

I shook my head at him, inhaling my cigarette.

"The first time I was terrified. I had been with Charon for so long that being alone was…well it was scary. But now, I just don't care. I figure if anything bad can happen, it already has, and if anything wanted to hurt me, it could have by now."

"That is true, kid. I wish you two would still try to reconcile things."

"Naw. No point."

Gob shrugged and lit his own cigarette. We watched Zack run around and fight imaginary beings for a while, silently. The hot sun warmed me nicely, I missed the heat out here, missed the way the wind blew, missed everything about this place. I missed Gob and Nova. Although Nova's dead, I can still miss her. We never really talked much, but she was something special to Gob, so that means she was special to me, too. Times change, people change, I'm just glad Gob didn't change too much. He's still the same, and one out of two isn't so bad.

"Hey your kid's takin' off."  
I told Gob, standing. We looked away from Zack for a minute, and then the next I see his little feet leaving through the gate.

"Shit! They left the fucking gate open!"

Gob and I jogged towards the entrance, only to see Zack a few yards away running in the dirt and laughing.

"Aw, Gob, he's fine."

"No, there's fuckin' Radscorpions and shit out here, he is not _fine_."

I shrugged and took my shotgun from its holster. Slowly we walked towards Zack, as he ran in circles and giggled. Scanning the area, I saw no real threats. I mean, aside from a caravan going somewhere, but they were too far off, and they wouldn't hurt a kid.

"Motherfuckers…could have gotten him hurt…"

"Gob, chill. I'm armed, he's got no worries."

"Still."

We got close enough to Zack to keep a better eye on him. All the kid was doing was digging holes in the dirt, no harm there. I still kept my gun out for good measure. Gob seemed to think as long as I was with him, and as long as there were no threats, Zack could play in the dirt outside of the grounds. Eventually, though, Gob's gonna have to let his kid go, just like my dad let me go. Looking around, I saw Lily playing with her kid in the distance. Sighing, I saw Charon sitting on a worn out blanket. Family picnic, how charming.

"I want to play with Mipzi!"

Zack said, and I gave Gob a strange look.

"Who?"

"Her name's Mackenzie. Lily's bastard."

"Oh. Well let him go play."

Gob shook his head, and reached for Zack. But, Zack was too fast and began running towards Lily and Mackenzie. Gob looked at me, and we started to slowly follow Zack. Neither one of us felt like running. It wasn't like the kid was in any danger, anyways.

"Why can't he play with her?"

I asked, throwing out my cigarette, and feeling sick to the stomach as we got closer to Lily and Charon.

"Lily doesn't want her precious bundle of joy fraternizing with a 'freak' like Zack."

"What? She actually said that?"

Gob nodded, crossing his arms.

"Yup, she did. Ghoul-human children, as she says, are dirty."

"That's bullshit."

"Tell me about it."

We stopped a yard or so away from Lily and Charon. For some reason, Lily let Mackenzie play with Zack. They ran around together, laughing and giggling. Of course, Lily wasn't pleased with this, and marched over to Gob.

"Keep your filth away from my child!"

She said, and I waved at her with my gun.

"Who the _fuck_ you think you are calling a kid 'filth'? They aren't hurting anyone."

Lily watched the gun in my hand carefully. I think she knows if I needed to, or wanted to bad enough, I'd shoot her.

"That child is an abomination to nature! There is no way he's natural."

"Well, in my eyes, he's more of a person than you are. He's not insulting someone who can't outright defend themselves."

Lily glared at me, and I scratched the back of my head with my gun. Behind her, I caught Charon's eye. He quickly looked away and watched Mackenzie and Zack playing tag, or some other childhood game. My heart sank, and I shook my head. Looking over at Gob, he looked sad. I guess hearing someone insult his kid hurt his feelings. In my eyes, Zack is a miracle, nothing short of that, either.

"Gob, take your kid and leave. No one wants either of you here."

I looked at Gob, curious as to what he would say. He's never been much of a fight, never one to confront someone else. He's just Gob.

"No."

I spoke for him. If he won't stand up to her, than I will.

"Excuse me?"

"I said 'no'. They want to play, let them."

"How _dare_ you!"

"How dare I what? Stand up for a kid? Stand up for someone who you don't know and have no right to pick on? You walk around like your shit don't stink, and from the few encounters we've had, Lily, I can honestly say you're a bitch."

"Being a bitch got me to where I am now."

"You mean mooching off of someone else? Yeah, great life."

I pointed my gun at her, smirking.

"Tell me, Lily, have you ever felt the warmth of a gun just after you get a good headshot? Have you ever stripped out of your pretty little dress and survived on your own like everyone else here has? Or have you just gone from suitor to suitor, looking for one _stupid_ enough to support you?"

She stared at the barrel of my gun. I clicked back the switch, signifying all I had to do now was pull the trigger and she'd be dead. Dead as dead as they come. But before I could enjoy the moment, a shadow overcastted me. Looking to my left, I saw Charon, and I saw him down the barrel of his own gun. Bastard.

"Put it away, Dezbe."

I didn't. I kept my arm stretched out, my sawed-off shotgun aimed between her eyes.

"Give me one good reason to."

Charon cocked his gun.

"This is a reason. Put it down."

"You won't kill me, Charon. You won't even hold that gun at me for more than five minutes."

"I will do what I have to, to protect my family."

"Then shoot me, big boy. Come on, shoot me like you were going to in the Ninth Circle. Shoot me like I ordered you to under the bridge. Shoot me and blow my brains sky-high."

I saw his eyes narrow. With a smirk, I squeezed the trigger. Charon reacted faster than I could, and I felt the barrel of his gun connect with my cheekbone. It hurt, stung, and I fell to the ground on my ass.

"It's not loaded, shitface!"

I screamed at him as I clutched my cheek, squirming on the ground. Fuck this hurts. It throbbed and I could feel it swelling under my hand. I threw my gun at him, and it snapped open, showing for real there were no shells inside.

"Dezbe!"

Gob jumped down to my aid, but I pushed him away.

"Fuck off, I'm fine."

I grumbled, blinking and lifting my hand from my cheek. Blood shone on my palm in the sunlight, and I smirked. Good one, Charon. Now I know what pisses you off these days. Looking up, I saw Lily frozen in horror, and Charon standing with his gun at his side. He stared at me, his eyes set and focused. I glared, picking myself up from the dirt.

"She's right, Gob. We don't want Zack congregating with filth."

Gob nodded and went to get Zack. Zack didn't argue, but sadly bid his little friend goodbye. Bending down, I picked my gun up from the dirt, glaring at Charon, at a pleased-looking Lily.

"Five years ago you'd have taken a bullet for me, shitface. Nice to see how easily forgotten I am."

I muttered to him, forcing back tears. Tears from the searing pain in my face, and pain from knowing that pain was caused by a man I once considered the most important thing in the world. Charon didn't say anything, as Lily grabbed on to his arm. She smiled at me, and I shook my head. Blood trickled down my cheek, and you know, Charon's not worth fighting for. I just don't care. I once said I'd follow him until he loved me, but now I know, he'd never love me. Leaving was the best fucking thing I ever did.

"Come on, Gob."

I said, turning away from the happy couple. Gob followed, and I wiped the blood from my face.

"Shit kid, that looks bad."

"Nothing some radiation won't fix."

"What?"

"Never mind."

We got back to the gates, and this time Gob made sure to close them. I sat down at the usual patio table, and cringed as I poked around the spot where Charon hit me.

"I can't believe he did that, kid."

"My gun wasn't even fuckin' loaded."

I said, tossing it on the table. I have shells in my pocket. Last night I figured it'd be safer to empty it, in case Zack got his hands on it.

"You should really get that checked out. There's a doctor inside."

Grabbing my gun, I loaded in some shells and stood up.

"I'll be back later. I'm going for a walk."

I muttered, and left. I'm going to find a nice puddle of water, and sit in it until this clears up. I need some space, too. To really process that Charon actually smacked me with his gun. My cheek stung, burnt, and blood trickled out. I didn't bother to wipe it away, it'd be gone soon enough. Ahead of me, I could see a puddle, and I smiled. It's nice to have radiation so readily accessible out here.

Sniffing my nose, I shook my head to make tears go away. Charon hit me, to protect that bitch. I know where I stand with him now. I've been gone too long. I have to let go, but I can't. I want to pretend, for a little, that things aren't this way. But they are this way, they are over, and I have to get over it. I thought Charon was the one for me, but he's not. Maybe the one for me is still out there, somewhere, looking for me. I guess it wasn't meant to be with me and him. It hurts, but I have to accept it.

Dipping my hands into the puddle, I scooped up some water and pressed it on my cheek. Instantly, the stinging sensation went away, and I began to feel the relief of the radiation. Lily has no idea that Zack and I are the same kind of freak. Only difference being, is that Zack is actually half-ghoul. I'm just a product of being exposed to radiation. Lily doesn't know that Charon is only alive today, because I gave him over fifty percent of my own skin. Those scars are gone, only a few show through, but the imprint it left in my mind is still there.

Tears fell from my eyes as I splashed more water on my face. Whatever, I don't care. Charon probably deserves Lily, anyways. Together they can be a happy family, and after Point Lookout, I'll leave, let them be just that. I'll go away again, vanish into the unknown, and never come back. Now I know that Charon is alive, and that he's happy, that Gob and Zack are doing well. I have no more real reason to return. No more…so I should be fine.

"Dez?"

I grab my now-loaded gun and jump up. Turning around, Charon stands, staring at me as water rolls down my face. I aim my gun at him, but slowly lower it and return it to its holster. Bending down, I return to the puddle. My broken cheekbone isn't quite finished healing.

"Fuck off."

I mutter to him, splashing more water over my face.  
"Dez, I'm sorry."

"Fuck off, I said."

I don't want to hear his half-assed apology. I don't want to hear that…that he didn't mean it. He meant it. Or else he wouldn't have done it.

"I didn't mean to hurt you."

"Yes, you did. You protect her, understandable. My gun wasn't loaded, though."

"No, Dez I didn't. I just…I know you. You'd have shot her."

"You obviously don't know the new and improved me. Aren't you going to get in trouble for talking to me?"

I said, standing and facing him. Charon sighed as I crossed my arms.

"I told Lily I saw something. I came to investigate."

"Okay, you did, go back."

I went to walk past him, but he stretched out his arm, and I felt his hand press against my midsection. The feeling of his hand on me made my insides freeze. I couldn't feel my feet, I stopped walking. I didn't look at him, but I didn't want him to take his hand away.

"Will you talk to me, please?"

I blinked slowly, feeling his fingers against my top. His touch still makes me feel this way, makes me feel so young.

"There's nothing to talk about."

I tell him, turning my head away. He keeps his hand on my stomach, keeps it there for longer than it should be. I have to hold back taking his hand. Eventually, I feel it slide off, away, and my body shudders. I want…I want Charon again.

"There is, Dez."

"Like what?"

I put him on the spot, still not looking at him. He hesitates, unsure of what to say.

"I…don't know."

There's no easy answer, and I don't expect one. We stand side-by-side, facing different directions. I want to jump on him, cry, wrap his arms around me and beg for him to run away with me. But I don't. I don't because I know it's over. My childish wants and needs are unimportant.

"Then there's nothing to talk about."

"Dez I didn't mean to hurt you."

"Yeah well, you did. It's fine, it's better. I'm a freak like Zack, remember?"

"Dez…"

"We'll go to Point Lookout, and get home. After that, I never want to see you again."

I say the sentence quickly, say it so I never have to say it again.

"You're going to leave again? What about Gob?"

"What about him? He's safe, he's alive. There's nothing else I need from this place."

"I wish you'd talk to me."

"I wish you'd tell me what there is to talk about."

A silence falls over us, one I don't like, one that makes me feel uncomfortable. I wipe my face clean of the water, of the tears, and I glare up at him.

"You should get back to your 'family'. They might be worried where their Sugar Daddy went."

"It doesn't matter. I need to talk to you."

I turned towards him, crossing my arms.

"Yeah you keep saying that but you never really tell me what the hell you need to talk to me about."

"I don't know, honestly."

"Then there's nothing to talk about."

He sighs, and shakes his head, looking at the ground. I keep my arms crossed, signifying that I'm mad. Of course I'm mad! He just hit me with his gun and now he expects me to…to forgive him? No. I mean if he had reason, like if I was pointing a loaded gun at his face, I'd forgive him. But I didn't. I pointed an unloaded gun at his tramp's face. She really is a tramp, Gob was right.

"I just feel…like I don't even know you anymore. Like you were dead, and you came back from the dead. It's still new. I never thought you'd come back, after all this time. You act like…like our time together meant nothing."

My jaw dropped. _He_ thinks _I _take our time together for granted? That _I_ think it meant nothing? Who's the one here with the family? Who's the one who fucking…who…who doesn't even care?

"You don't know me, Charon. I'm different now. You're different. Whatever we had was in the past, before. It might mean something to me, but not as much as it did back then."

"I have things I want to say, but I don't know how."

I roll my eyes, trying not to feel bad for him. I don't want to feel bad for him, I don't want anything to do with him. I know that's a lie, that I do care and that I want everything to do with him. But I won't let myself. Not after he hit me. Not after he blatantly chose Lily over me.

"Then don't say them. I'm going back to the tower. You should get back to Lily before she wanders here, and you have to actually kill me."

"I would never kill you, Dez."

"That's up for argument."

I wave my hand at him, and start walking away. It hurts on the inside, to leave him standing there like that, but what else can I do? There's no other option, and frankly, fighting for someone who doesn't want to fight for you is pointless. In the past, Charon would take a bullet for me. Now, he'd shoot me with that same bullet.

"You once said you'd follow me until I loved you."

He calls, and I turn around. The wind blows, spraying dust and dirt around us. Charon turns to face me, his back to the sun. Even though it's sweltering hot, I feel a chill run down my spine.

"Yeah. I did."

I admit, as he walks closer to me. He stops a few feet away, and I glare up at him, telling him I'm still angry, that he's still not forgiven.

"Why didn't you?"

"Because I know now, you'd never love me. It was a stupid remark, I'm sad that I even said it. I should have known."

"Known what?"

"That this is what I'd come back to."

I light a cigarette, sighing, avoiding his eye contact. Charon doesn't understand, he never has, he never will. Coming back home was a mistake, I see that now in hindsight. He stands in front of me, and I don't know why. I want him to walk away, to leave me alone. I want to be alone. I have been for five years, now is no different.

"Dez, if I had known you'd return, I'd have done things differently."

"I didn't come back with any of the men I fucked in New Vegas."

"I'm aware, I know but…five years."

"Don't try to explain yourself. I don't care."

I ignore his pleas as I walk away. I ignore him calling my name, calling so loudly that anyone around us could hear him. I don't want to hear him, his voice, his treason. I don't care. I've wasted enough of my time and emotions on him. Now, at least I have closure. At least now I know, and maybe I can begin getting over him. Begin my life anew once more. Who knows where it'll take me? I don't. I just want to start this trip to Point Lookout. I want to start it soon, so it can be over sooner. He's saved my life, so many times I can't even count them anymore, but it doesn't mean I owe him anything. It doesn't mean anything now, because I never asked him to save me. I never asked him to stay up late at night with me, keeping me warm, keeping me alive. All the things he did for me, he did because he wanted to. I owe him nothing. I will give him nothing.

But as I think back, back to…to those times…I find I'm grateful he was there. I'm grateful that he was there every night, talking with me, making me laugh, arguing over stupid shit. I didn't ask him to, though, and that's the point. He did it because…I guess because he cared about me. But now he doesn't. Now he cares for Lily, for her and her kid. I'm second rate, walking away will a still-sore cheek. I regret what I did for him. I regret…letting myself believe I mattered to someone out here. It was a mistake, just like me being born.


	11. Something I've Got To Do

(Charon)

She's right, she's right, damnit she's right. I can't stop pacing. I want to rip Tobar's head off. Rip his throat out and toss his remains overboard. I have no reasoning, I have no choice, I have to let it go. But seeing that, seeing _them_ enraged me. Hell I'm smart enough to know the damn bitch did it on purpose, she _wanted_ me to see it. She wanted a reaction out of me, and against my better will and judgment, she did. It fucking kills me inside, though, it tears me up, pissing me off.

Shaking my head, I glare over at the back of Tobar's head. What I wouldn't do to hurt him. To kill him for good. I can't do anything. Dez is right. She is no longer mine, she is simply a business partner now, here to accompany me strictly for the caps. Although, I never mentioned the pay to her. She just simply agreed. Fuck. It doesn't change the fact that seeing her with that man pissed me off in a way I haven't been in such a long time. I can't deny it anymore, there are still feelings for her. There always will be, and I'm aware of that, but I didn't know they would be this intense.

When she looked at me, when I saw them, she had a look on her face. It wasn't of smugness, it wasn't of vengeance, it was a look that she only ever gave me. It was gone in an instant of course, gone and replaced with that smug half-smirk of hers, but I saw it. It was there. That's part of what drove me. I haven't seen her look at me like that since before she left. I only realize now, I've been in such a haze, and stupor, without her. It's as if I'm just…working, not being or feeling, just doing things as they come. Being around her…I feel as if I have a purpose, a reason to live. Not that I have ever wished to die, no, but a reason to _feel_ alive.

Lily, Lily has never angered me so. She has never been able to figure out what exactly makes me tick but Dez…Dez has always known. She has always known which buttons to press, and what reaction she'll get from them. Dez, never once failed, in getting any form of reaction from me that she wanted. And I play into them, I play into her stupid, childish games and give her exactly what she wants. All the time. Walking over to the railing, I grip it tightly, feeling my knuckles turning white. I stare out on the river, the ocean, whatever the fuck it is.

Shaking my head, I growl to myself. How dare she. No, no this is not her fault. In a sense of course it is, but I should have realized what I was doing when I kissed Lily in front of her. But I can do nothing about Lily, Dez did not have to spread he legs and fuck Tobar. I can deal with her telling me about the men she was with in New Vegas, but actually _seeing_ it…tells me that there is no hope for us to ever work again. I'm not sure if this hurts me, or makes me happy in a small way. Knowing that it is over will give me the freedom, the ability, to further my relationship with Lily. I won't have to deal with wondering what could have been with Dez. But at the same time, it will hurt me, because the only woman I have ever…truly felt…anything with…is gone.

Footsteps to my right tell me Dez is coming up the stairs. I grip the rail tighter, if that is even possible. I glare at her, as she walks and lights a cigarette. She blows plumes of smoke into the air, as she walks aimlessly around the upper deck. She has no reason or purpose for being up here, she wants my attention. I shake my head and look away from her. After a few moments, I hear her approaching me, hear her soft treading feet, smell her scent.

"What crawled up your ass and died?"

Blunt, still very blunt.

"Nothing."  
I won't look at her, I refuse.

"Aw, did I hurt your feelings?"

"I understand now, what you said by irking. You are irking me."

She laughs, loudly, sarcastically. I see wisps of smoke float up from the corner of my eye.

"Well that's a shame, isn't it? You're stuck with me, Charon. Until this whole job is done, right?"

"Yes."

I growl, feeling the rail creak beneath my hands. This can't be the end. This can't be the end of what Dez and I were. Leaving like this, on such cold and hurtful grounds. I know once this boat docks in Point Lookout, Dez will scurry off, she will kill to pass time, she will pay no mind to me. I glance down at her, the look in her eyes drives me crazy. It's evil, vindictive, but behind that she's sad. I know her well enough to know, she didn't want to hurt me. I want to pick her up, I want to set her on this rail and kiss every inch of her face, just like I have before. I don't care about Tobar, about the other men, I want her, just her.

I don't, though. I make no movement, nor do I even hint, of what I want to do. I look away from her. Pick her up, hold her close, take her far away from this place and never again look back. I'd try to kiss her, but she wouldn't let me. It rips through me, searing me, knowing that she'll never again be mine, knowing that she did this because of me. I have always protected her, always been there when she had no one else, put her life and wellness above my own. Until, she left. Until I let her leave.

Dez is silent beside me. She stands close, but not uncomfortably close. Quietly, she smokes her cigarettes. I want to ask her who did this to us. Who made us this distant, this cold towards one another? I know the answer. We did this to ourselves. I stayed, she did not. Had she stayed or had I followed, perhaps we would not be in this mess. Glancing down, I catch her looking up at me. The silence is driving me insane, I feel I should say something but I don't know what. I've never felt this kind of hurt before.

"Charon?"

She says, and it makes my spine shudder. She has not said my name like that, I have not heard it spoken that way, in five years. I had forgotten, the way it makes me feel.

"What?"

"You look stressed."

I grit my teeth, looking out at the water.

"No."

"Not a man of words now, are we?"

I want to shout at her. I want to…fuck. I look away and back down at her. She absentmindedly smokes, while toying with a hair tie. It's only now I realize, her hair is down and around her shoulders. It seems tamer, than it one was five years ago. I would run my fingers through that hair, night after night, after sex and in comfort. It would tangle around my fingers, smooth on my palm. She would close her eyes and smile whenever I did it. She enjoyed it. Now, I watch as she runs her own fingers through, tying it back up.

"I have nothing to say."

I tell her, looking away.

"Oh, don't want to be friends anymore?"

Sighing, I look down at her. She's insatiable.

"I don't know."

"You know, I didn't do anything wrong."

"I know."

"So why are you angry?"

"I'm not."

"You're being short with me."

Buttons. Pressing and pressing them.

"I am tired. Distracted."

"Yeah, I'd be tired too, if I manhandled Tobar like that."

She smirks at me, and I realize something. I did attack him. I tore him off of her, fought him to the ground, threw him. In a fit of jealousy, I attacked someone for her. Because of her. I have never done that with Lily. Never gotten so angry over the men that have gone up to her and flirted. Even if the flirtation led to something else, perhaps a meeting or even a day trip, I have never gotten so angry as to attack them. With Dez…I couldn't control it. I feel like I should say something, like the means and rules of arguing will be broken if I don't, but I can't thing of a fucking thing to say to her.

"Hm."

I growl, realizing how stupid I sounded only after I said it.

"Did you ever love me, Charon?"

My heart pulses beneath my rotted flesh and muscle. I look down at her, she's looking out at the water, smoking, her face calm in wonder.

"Well…I…"

Before I'm able to finish, to formulate, she interrupts.

"Because I never really loved you. Ever hear of Stockholm Syndrome? Read about it in New Vegas. When someone's kidnapped, eventually they grow fond of their captor. I had no one, and you saved my ass all the time. I grew fond of you and misconstrued it as love. So, sorry for making you think I actually gave a damn."

I have nothing to say. I stare at her, bewildered, wondering if she is serious or lying. She throws her cigarette overboard, and walks away. She waves her hand in the air, as if she's giving me a friendly goodbye. Excuse me, but what the fuck just happened? Stockholm Syndrome? Of course I've heard of it but…no. No I was not holding her captive I was simply obeying the orders brought on by my contract.

It makes sense, though. Thinking back to how she once was, how she used to me, I can understand where she would misinterpret feelings. I'm not sure exactly, how this makes me feel. I'm confused as to why she even said it. She had no rhyme or reason, other than spite. I stand, staring off at nothing, half hoping she will come back up and explain what she meant. If she had listened, she would have heard yes, I loved her, and yes, I still do.

I swallow hard, glancing back at Tobar. I am too shocked, too bewildered, to fathom any real response to anything now. I try to remember the past, remember the words she once said, her actions and motions. I cannot base how she is now, on who she once was. They are two entirely different people. Still, I cannot deny that her words hurt. Although I am confused, I'm still hurt by her words. It seems now, hurting me is her new game. Attacking me for no reason. Defensive, perhaps? I do not know.


	12. Feel How It Trembles Inside

We dock at Point Lookout. I jump off the boat happily. It's been a rough two days with Charon. After I told him about Stockholm Syndrome, he avoided me like a goddamned Deathclaw. And good for that, too. I didn't want him following and trying to talk to me. Still, it got lonely at night, when I was the only one in the cot, when I could hear him pacing above me.

I'm greeted by a giant wheel. I stare at it, curious, and look back. Charon steps off the boat, and I take my gun from its place on my side.

"Come on let's _do_ this!"

"I need your map."

I think that's the most he's said to me in two days. Shrugging, I pull up my map, my Pip-Boy locating that I'm at Point Lookout. It reprograms, and gives me a new map. Charon walks over and reads it over my shoulder.

"Here. I must go here."

I move the arrow over the icon he points at, and click. It comes up as a motel.

"Excuse me?"

I say, staring at him and turning off my map.

"My instructions are to wait a full day for new orders, they will be delivered to me within that building."

"A _day_? You mean we aren't going in and just blasting shit up? And what the hell is that?"

Charon shakes his head, and I point at the big wheel. He looks at it, shrugging.

"Ferris Wheel. Pre-war ride. Takes you up and around in a circle."

"Well, that's stupid and pointless."

"Hm."

We walk into the strange pier. There's old shops, lockers, papers flying in the wind. I wander off to explore the Ferris Wheel, examining it closely.

"Stay close, Dez."

"Fuck off, Charon."

I mimic his tone, ignoring him. I push a seat that hangs off of the Ferris Wheel and it creates a loud, creaking sound that echoes for miles.

"Whoa…"

I mutter, staring up at the wheel. It starts to creep me out, so I walk away from it, catching up with Charon. He looks around cautiously, his hand tightly wrapped around his gun.

"We aren't alone."

He says, and I shrug.

"Fightin' time."

It's been a while, I may be a bit rusty, but hell I'm excited. All I want to do is shoot something, but I can't see anything to shoot. No people, no enemies, hell not even a Molerat. It feels like a ghost town, it's so quiet. It's too quiet.

"Come on, the motel is up ahead."

I roll my eyes and follow Charon. Usually, he'd be following me, but now the tables have turned. I keep a close eye out, this place spooks me. It's humid, hot, sticky, and too silent for its own good. Where are the people? Where is everyone? I shrug, looking around. I hear rustling, but I pass it off as the wind. Hell this place could almost be peaceful, if it wasn't so damn creepy.

Turning around, I start slowly following Charon again. I let my limbs relax, letting the warm breeze bristle through my hair. This place is kind of nice. Hell maybe I'll stay when this is over, and let Charon return alone. He can tell everyone I died, and then Lily won't have to throw a fit, and I can live out the rest of my days on this quaint little place. With the big, creepy Ferris Wheel, of course.

In the middle of my thoughts, something interrupts. It hits me in the back of my head, hurting at first, then feeling warm, like radiation. It is radiation. I move my hand back to rub the spot, and I feel a sticky, goo-like substance.

"Eww…"

I cringe, wiping my hand on my pants.

"Where'd this come from?"

I ask myself, and I turn around. Just in time to see a feral ghoul wearing old metal armor charging at me.

"Shit!"

I don't move fast enough, and it hits me. Damn. It hurts more than any other swipe I've ever gotten. Knocks me right on my ass, making me drop my gun, causing it to slide away from me. I feel the warm sensation of blood trickle near my collarbone, but I don't have time to focus on that. The feral ghoul advances on me, hissing, thrashing. It's unlike any other feral I've encountered. Quickly, I scan the area, I look for my gun. There it is! Just a few yards away from me. I look back at the ghoul, its mouth gaping, eyes hollow. There's no time to reach for my gun, so I brace myself for another hit, raising my arm to block my face.

"You like that you bastard!"

Charon screams over the blasts of his trademark shotgun. I remove my arm, and glance up to see the ghoul get knocked over by the blast. Charon casts me a quick look, as if to say 'get off your ass', before cocking his gun again. I don't need telling twice. Scurrying, I crawl over to my gun, and click it back, ready to fight now. Turning back towards Charon and the ghoul, I notice that, the damn thing isn't dead yet. Usually ghouls like that take one hit, maybe two, from Charon's gun before falling into a mess of guts and bone. This one, this one just keeps fucking _coming_.

Clamoring to my feet, I take aim at the ghoul running at Charon. I shoot at it, hitting it in the leg. It does nothing. The ghoul just stops running, hisses, and hurls another gob of goop at me. I dodge it, and it lands somewhere far off behind me. I take another shot, my last one before reloading. It hits the ghoul in the chest, and it staggers back, angry, hissing. Charon starts shooting at it once more, hitting it in the head. Damn. Whatever kind of ghoul this is, it's strong.

"That's it!"

Charon screams, and I start to put more shells into my gun. Once it closes shut, I feel angry. I'm tired, smelly, and goddamned hot. I want to find whatever we need to find, and get the fuck out of here. I forget the pain in my chest, and run towards the ghoul, firing my shotgun. Charon yells something, but between the blasts of my own gun, my heart beating in my ears, and the anger lunging me forward, I don't hear him.

The ghoul drops its jaw, and lets out a moan. I don't think twice, and I tackle it to the ground.

"Die motherfucker!"

I scream, and take a shot at its face. It doesn't seem to hurt it, instead it raises its rotted arm and I feel its hand swipe my face. The sheer force propels me off of it, knocking me to the ground. I feel blood seep and sting into my left eye, feel pain burning its way throughout my body. I roll on my back, groaning and moaning in pain and humiliation. Taken down by a feral ghoul. Hell I know I'm rusty but this is straight up bull.

"You bastard!"

Charon screams, and I hear a few blasts, then nothing. No moaning, no ghoul hissing, no nothing. Staring up at the sky, I turn my head and see the lifeless body of the ghoul beside me.

"Shit…"

I breathe, feeling dizzy. Shaking my head, I press my palms to the concrete, and lift myself to my feet.

"Dez, are you alright?"

Charon comes and helps me steady myself.

"You're hurt."

He says and grabs my face in his hands. Instinctively I pull away, pain shooting through my body.

"Ow!"

I yell, glaring at him. I can't see out of my left eye, it's soaked in blood. Charon looks at me, but doesn't strap his gun to his back.

"Come on, the room is up ahead, we'll clean you up in there."

"Whatever."

Slowly, I step over the ghoul's body. Its eyes are open, staring, mouth wide, up at the sky. Whatever kind of ghoul that was, I hope I never see another one as long as I live. Too strong, it was far too strong to be a normal ghoul. Especially with that whole throwing shit. Ghouls don't throw shit. They should be too stupid to.

Charon leads me into a room, a motel room. There's a single bed, a bathroom, and an old pre-war TV. I cringe at the sight of it, which makes my face ache. Charon walks over to a nightstand, and pulls a piece of paper from the drawer. I watch him as he reads it, blood seeping down into my shirt, blood trickling down my neck. He looks at me, and remembers I'm hurting.

"Come here."

He says, but I pull away from him.

"Don't touch me."

I hiss, but he ignores me. He grabs my arm and pulls me close, examining the slices on my face. I feel his hot breath on my skin, it gives me goose bumps, it excites me. I lied about Stockholm Syndrome. He lifts his hand, and gently touches the outer area of the cut. I flinch, but I don't pull away.

"Radiation won't fix this."

He states, and I glare at him.

"Why not?"

"That was a Feral Ghoul Reaver. Their attacks are based on radiation."

"Then it'll heal on its own if it's already irradiated."

"Radiation here is different. It won't heal you, simply make you sick. It will sicken me, as well."

"Well it would have been useful if you told me that, I would have brought Stimpacks."

I snarl at him, crossing my arms. Charon sighs, and goes over to the bed. Reaching beneath it, he pulls out a first-aid kid. As if he knew it was there. Smartass. I watch him as he rummages through it, pulling out various medical supplies. He looks over at me, noticing the other slashes on my collarbone.

"This is awkward for me to ask but…could you remove your shirt?"

I laugh a bit, through the pain, and nod.

"Whatever you say, doc…"

I unzip my top, and slide it off. It hurts, as it brushes against my face, but I ignore it. Tossing it to the ground, I look at Charon as I stand in my flimsy, white tank top that's rimmed with blood. He looks at me, and shakes his head.

"Sit."

I sit, smirking.

"If I had known you were into role-playing, I would have been a naughty nurse."

Charon snickers as he takes a piece of gaze and wets it with something in a bottle.

"Tilt your head back."

I do as he says, and I feel him gently dabbing the gauze over the slices on my chest. Closing my eyes, I enjoy the feel of his hands on me. One of them rests on my shoulder, to hold me still, while the other dances around the slices. His grip on me is firm, but soft. I feel myself shudder, and I swallow hard.

"Are you cold?"

He asks, and I shake my head.

"No."

"Does this sting?"

"No."

I don't want him to stop. I feel his hand go up and down on the cuts, cleaning them, wiping up the blood. He stops for a minute, and I hear him rummaging through the first aid kit again. Soon, I feel his touch on me again, and I sigh by mistake. Charon doesn't say anything about it, but I feel his grip on my shoulder tighten for a minute. He tapes strips of gauze to my cuts, and I feel him beginning to clean off my neck. It's arousing, in a way, I don't know why. He moves his hand to the back of my neck, steadying me. I feel my heart racing in my chest, and I hope that he can't see it. I hope he can't feel it.

"This will stop the bleeding, but I can't bandage your face."

"Yeah…that's okay."

I say, shallow. I hold back tears, when he starts to clean the slices on my face. Not because it hurts, because it doesn't, but because I've missed him. Because I've missed his touch, the feel of his hands on my body. The way any moment between us used to be so intimate, personal. He's gentle, wiping from top to bottom, and every once in a while, I feel him brush some loose strands of hair away.

When his hands slide away from me, I realize he finished. A part of me…wishes I would bleed, so then he'd have to touch me again. But I don't, and I'm able to open my eyes and see through both of them. Looking down, I watch as he puts away the medical stuff, and places the box on the nightstand.

"We have to wait here until morning. Tomorrow, we go for our target."

"Why can't we go now?"

"Those are not my orders."

I nod, and take my hair out from the ponytail. Charon stands, and walks into the bathroom. I hear him turn on the shower, then turn it off once more.

"You may bathe, if you wish."

I shrug, and smooth my hands over the bed.

"Maybe, I don't know. I guess it's not safe to go off and explore, is it?"

"I wouldn't advise it."

I bite my lip and look away from him. My heart still hasn't slowed down, and I try to make it, but I can't.

"Uh…thanks for…getting that ghoul away from me…"

I think that's the first time I've ever thanked him for saving me.

"Can't have you dying out here. Need help with my job."

Right. Job. I have to remember I'm back to 'job' status once again. Not…important enough to care for, but important enough to save. I brought this on myself, though. Charon leaves the bathroom doorway, and leans against the bureau, crossing his arms in front of his chest. I look away from him. At least on the boat, we could walk away from one another. Now, we're stuck in a small, confined space, until morning. It's only noontime now. Shit.

"Maybe I'll go check out the other rooms."

I say, standing up. He doesn't say anything, but the second I open the door and look out, I see a disfigured man walking around with an axe. Quickly I close the door, changing my mind.

"Or not."

If that ghoul was strong, then I don't want to fuck with the people here. At least, not without Charon. Sighing, I walk back and sit on the bed. Charon has his eyes closed, and doesn't bother to watch me. I don't know what to do, I don't know what to say. It's quiet here, there's no bombs falling in the distance, no screams of Raiders, no nothing. Just dead silence. I fumble with my hands in my lap, and think of things to talk about.

"So…how'd you meet Lily?"

I try to be friendly, wanting some conversation. I feel awkward, sitting here, in silence.

"On a job. She was cowering from me. Killed a man, supposedly she had no relations with or to him, but she was living with him. Couldn't leave her like that, she had a kid. Offered her my own home, and she obliged."

"Oh. That's…interesting I guess. Better than how we met, I guess."

I glance over at Charon. He still has his eyes closed.

"Hm, perhaps. I didn't hold a gun to her face. Wasn't ordered to kill her."

"Yeah. What about her kid? You like her?"

"Mackenzie? She's alright. Bratty little thing. Was never fond of children."

"Oh, I didn't know that. Always thought you liked them, or something."

"No."

The topic is dry, the air is thick. I sigh and pull my legs on the bed, and position my body against the headboard. Before…before there was never this kind of awkward silence between us. We always had something to talk about, and if we didn't, it was okay. It was never this uncomfortable, this filed with tension. Charon shifts, and opens his eyes. He examines my face, the red cuts across my face.

"They might scar."

He says, offhandedly.

"That's okay. I never cared for appearances, anyways."

"I know. You were always, dirty. Running around covered in scars and blood. Not that it was a bad thing, just stating the obvious."

"Yeah, yeah I remember. I, uh, always was a mess. I try not to be, now."

"Why?"

"I don't know, really. Just, do I guess."

Charon nods, and I look away. I look at the wall, at the floor, at everything except him.

"Any boyfriends of yours you miss?"

I smirk, shaking my head.

"They weren't good enough to earn the status of 'boyfriend'. They were just some pathetic mercenaries who were looking to have a good time. One of them fell in love with me, but he was pathetic, too."

"I see."

"None of them compared to…"

I stop myself before continuing. I wanted to say 'compared to you', but I didn't. It slipped out too fast, I never meant to say that sentence at all. Nervously, I bit my lip, and glanced up at him.

"What else did you do in New Vegas?"

I'm glad he drops it. Glad he didn't ask about it.

"Uh, well…not sure. A whole lot of nothing, really. Ran with a gang, killed the gang. Went to the city, ran from the city. Got into a few bar fights here and there, New Vegas is really busy. Sometimes I gambled. Helped a ghoul named Raul. Uh…had sex, drank a lot, worked as a dancer for a hundred caps a night. Well in tips, really. Saved my money, gambled it all away. Nothing too extreme."

"One big party, I presume."

I smirked, looking up at the ceiling.

"Oh, I wish."

He doesn't know that every night of the first three years or so, maybe two, I cried myself to sleep. He doesn't know I cried because of him, that I missed him so much, I did anything I could to forget him. That whenever some scummy guy tried to take advantage of me, I wished he was there to save me. That…when I had sex…I would close my eyes, and think of him, of only him, until I felt nothing.

"What made it so miserable? Sounds like you were having fun out there."

I shrug, not feeling like pouring my soul out to him. As far as he's aware, I never really cared anyways.

"Shit, I guess. You know me, have to see the glass half-empty."

He nods, and stands up from leaning against the bureau. He begins to unstrap his leather armor, slowly working it like he's always done. I watch curiously, as he slides it off over his head and tosses it to the ground. His black shirt is faded, from too many washes. It's tucked into his pants, and he folds his arms again, leaning back. It reminds me that I'm still topless, and maybe that's why he won't look at me, or open his eyes for very long.

"New Vegas sounds like your kind of place. Sex, drugs, beer, parties…I don't see why you ever wanted to come home."

Home. Because its home.

"Yeah, me neither. Not sure if I'll go back, though. Still got places to see, and stuff."

"Lily talked about traveling to New Vegas when we first met. Probably would have run into you."

"Might have been awkward."

"Not as awkward as you showing up at Tenpenny Tower, unannounced."

I nervously looked around, my skin felt clammy.

"Hey is there liquor anywhere? I could use a drink. Need to relax."

"Don't know. Have a look around."

I shook my head, pulling my knees to my chin.

"No, it's okay, don't need one that bad."

Charon shrugs, eyes still closed, arms still crossed. I look out of the half-shaded window, and see things walking by in the distance. I don't know who or what they are, but I don't want to pick a fight with them.

"What do you want to do? I mean, for the next few hours before we can fall asleep."

I ask him, tearing my gaze away from the window. Charon shrugs, not replying. The silence kills me, and I announce to him that I'm going to shower, and retreat into the bathroom. As I turn on the shower, I breathe a sigh of relief. He can't hear me, I hope, over the pulses of the shower. I don't really want one, but it's an excuse. An excuse to get away from him, to be alone, without putting myself in any real danger.

Stripping off my shoes, my socks, my pants and underwear, I stare naked at my reflection in the old mirror. Three diagonal scars stretch across the left side of my face. They're angry, red, but look decent. I mean, as decent as they can be. The ones on my collarbone are carefully wrapped in gauze. Wrapped by Charon. I shudder, remembering the feel of his hands on my skin, remembering how…it made my heart race, how I loved it, and didn't want him to stop.

Stepping into the hot water, I close my eyes, open my mouth, and let it flow all around me. I hug myself, letting it wet my hair, letting it soak me. I cry, quietly, too scared to sniff. I don't want Charon to hear, I don't know what his reaction will be, but I just don't want him knowing. It's my private time, my time alone, with just me, and no one else. Of course, I wouldn't outwardly object if he opted to join me, but I know that's a fantasy. I know it'll never happen, and I need to stop fooling myself with silly, stupid pipe dreams.

I wish I never left, honestly. I mean, I know in the long run it's good for me but…but look at me now. Look at how Charon and I interact. It's like we just met, like we're complete strangers. I wonder…if he ever really cared about me? If he loved me once, before, a long time ago? I don't know, I don't feel I'll ever know. I don't know if those nights we spent wrapped naked, intertwined with one another, meant anything to him at all, or if he pretended it did. It hurts, having to wonder all of this when you haven't wondered anything in so long. Charon was the only thing, person, I ever really cared about. He kept me grounded, kept me steady. Telling him I never really loved him tore me up inside. It hurt to say it, but I felt I had to. I don't know why, I'm just as stupid now as I was back then.

Instinctively, I sniff my nose. It's loud, and I hold my breath. Nothing. No sound. No movement. I breathe a sigh of relief, and run my hands over my face. I have to get a grip. I have to grow up. I'm twenty-five, for fuck's sake. Time to get over these childish acts and be mature. Be real.

"Dez?"

The sound of my own name coming from the other side of the bathroom door scares me. I stare at the shower curtain, shuddering even though it's sweltering hot inside.

"Uh…yeah?"

My voice is nasally, stuffy. I clear sign of what I've been doing.

"Are you…are you alright in there?"

For the first time in two days, I hear genuine care in Charon's voice. It warms my insides more than this water ever could. But I suppress the feeling, I don't need it right now. It is a nice refresher, though.

"Uh, yeah, I'm alright."  
"May I come in?"

"Sure, I uh, guess."

Quickly, I stick my face under the showerhead. It stings a bit, but I have to take away any signs of crying. I know I'm hidden behind a curtain, I know he can't see me, but I'm just so scared. I don't want him to see me, actually. I'm angry at him, I have to remember that, remind myself of it. But you know…even I get tired of being so angry.

I hear the bathroom open, and I brace myself. Through the curtain, I see his silhouette. My heart races again, and the words I said to him a few days ago echo in my head. I don't want to be friends. I don't. It's all or nothing, I can't be your friend, and stand by while you kiss her, Lily, someone not me.

"What do you need?"

I call, after he doesn't say anything.

"The first thing I remember when I think of you is the look you had when I met you. You walked into the Ninth Circle like you owned it. You were the first one to stand up to Ahzrukhal."

His words catch me off guard. I can't believe what I'm hearing, but he has me trapped. I can't avoid him, save for running out naked, but then I'd have to get past him. And then, where would I go?

"What...what are you saying?"

"That night you threw yourself off a cliff. While you dangled in the air as I held you, I remember thinking 'What on earth could make this girl so sad, that she feels everything is better without her'."

"Charon…"

"That night in Rivet City…after Quinn shot you, you crawled over to me. Thoughts raced in my mind, I blamed the Buffout for your actions. I never told you that when you crawled back to your bed, I had to restrain from following you. Not in a sexual way, but because by then I had grown so fond of you, of your company, that I wanted to take away whatever made you so upset in the past."

I bit my lip, waiting for him to continue. I felt exposed, standing naked under the water. Not because of that, though, but because never in my entire time with Charon, have I ever heard him talk like this. I'm not sure what to think, what to make of it. It makes me shudder, makes me feel cold, makes my heart race and words freeze up in my throat.

"I was angry at you, so angry, for leaving me at Fort Bannister. I held a grudge, but that night in the satellite dish when you spoke to me, I knew my anger wouldn't last. I hadn't quite figured you out, I never figured you out, but the way you looked that night…I was able to forgive you, to look past everything."

"…I…"

"Five years went by, Dez. Not a day or night went, when I didn't think of you. I wondered, if you were alive, safe, secure, if you needed me. I remembered and thought of the night in Megaton, after your father died. I had never seen you so upset, never seen you so…emotional. I was used to a Dez that didn't care, one who feared nothing and fought everything. You hugged me that night, pressed against my armor, and slept against my shirt. I laid awake that night, wondering how…a simple being could be so complex. Emotions weren't a part of my mind, not then, anyways. I couldn't understand you, couldn't understand why I felt the need to protect you, even from yourself."

Tears melted with the water that dripped down my face, but I shook them away. I can't let myself be fooled.

"Now…you're here. You're with me again and it can't be more uncomfortable for us. I have a family, you claim that you cared based on a form of Stockholm Syndrome. Whatever the truth may be, I refuse to…abandon my family, leave Lily and Mackenzie to the fate of the Wasteland. I just feel I needed to tell you this, before I lost my chance once again, and you left."

Charon. I tried not to sniff, tried to ignore the anger, the tears, the desire and the sadness. Angry because…he says this, but…tells me he won't leave. Won't leave Lily, to come with me, far away, where nothing would ever bother us again.

"…You love her."

It's a statement, not a question, but he answers anyways.

"Yes."

"I understand. Why…did you want to tell me this?"

"Because I don't want you leaving again, and having to wonder if I ever really cared about you."

"…Oh. I see."

"Now that you know, I feel I have nothing left to say."

With that he turned, and I saw his shadow vanish, heard the door slam behind him. I fell to the bottom of the shower, curling into a ball. I sobbed, not caring if he heard me, not caring if he cared or not. I have to let it out, or it'll build, and it'll be the death of me. I can't hold things inside. I have to let out all the hurt and pain.

Charon cared. Sometime ago, he did. He cared for me, but now…now he doesn't. Now there's Lily and fuck you don't know how much that hurts me. I clutch my shoulders, my arms hugging me in comfort. I let out cries, soft wails, and try to remember a time when I wasn't in so much emotional pain. The only times that come to mind, are the nights Charon and I had sex. When I was filled with so many pleasurable emotions, such waves of lust and love, that I couldn't even figure out if it was all a dream. I remembered how his weight fell on top of me, how his hands explored every inch my body has. I remembered how his lips felt against mine, when he would kiss me.

He won't kiss me now. I'd beg him to, though. Just to see if it felt the same, to see if they still offered the same comfort and…and emotions that they did before. I want him to, I want him to…to take me away. Hold me really close like he used to, protect me, keep me safe, and see me more than just a job. My chest…hurts. It hurts, like you would not believe. It hurts more than any physical pain I've ever felt or endured. I'd rather be ripped apart by a Deathclaw, than feel this way again.

Gathering my thoughts and my head and emotions, I turn off the shower and step out. I look on top of the toilet, and notice that Charon left me a fuzzy robe, and a towel. I smirk at the gesture. Wrapping my head, I venture out, in the warm robe. Not that it's cold, but because I don't want to dress while I'm wet. I carry my clothes in my hand, and notice Charon laying on the bed, his arms behind his head, staring up at the ceiling. I toss my clothes to the ground, and sit in a chair.

"Now what?"

I ask him, looking down at my bare feet. From the unblocked spaces in the window, I see more figures walking by. They're different from the ones I saw earlier, and I look away.

"We wait till tomorrow, and finish the job we came here to do."

"Oh."

Not what I meant, but whatever. Hard to believe that…a few years ago I'd look up at the stars…and wonder where he was. I wipe my face with the sleeve of the robe, looking away from him, making sure he can't see it was tears. I begin to wonder why I came here, in the first place.

"I thought about you in New Vegas."

I tell him, feeling so sad.

"Oh?"

I nod.

"Yeah. A lot. I'd…I'd look up at the stars, well what stars you could see, and wonder where you were."

"I was in the Capital Wasteland. I never left."

He talks like he doesn't care. I swallow hard, sucking in a deep breath of air.

"…I thought of you…when…there were other men. None…of them…measured up. I never…felt the same…"

I mutter, shame forcing me to put my head down. I lost a friend, when I turned my back on him and left Underworld, left the Capital Wasteland. I lost…the best thing to ever happen to me.

"I see."

"I'd close my eyes…and picture you. It…was never the same…eventually…I stopped caring. I told myself…I didn't care."

"Seems like a lot of work, for someone you only came to care for out of conviction."

"There was no one to stay up with me, late at night, to talk to me. There was no one…to have my back. To protect me."

"I only protect you now because I need your assistance."

His cold demeanor hurts, it bothers me, making it feel like I'm not a person. I look at him, he's staring at the ceiling still. A clap of thunder from the outside makes me jump. Rain begins to pour down. It never rains in the Capital Wasteland, but it used to every once in a while in New Vegas. Lightning flashes, and I frown. I resist the urge to reach over the bed, and grab Charon's hand. His silence…hurts me.

"…I'd…"

"You'd what?"

He snaps, closing his eyes.

"Who did this to us, Charon? We…you and I…what happened?"

"We parted ways. We reunited on different terms. Our lives took us places without the other."

I expected more of an answer than that.

"I suppose Lily means a lot to you, for you to act this way towards me."

I snap, becoming angry. Anger is my only defense I have, really. Without it, Charon can tear me down.

"I suppose."

"I mean, five years ago you would never think of hurting me."

"It was five years ago."

"Right, so it doesn't matter now, does it?"

"I suppose not, no."

I miss you, Charon. I miss you more than I have ever missed anything else in my life. I wish you weren't so cold, but then again I set myself up for this. I did this to myself. The only person I can point my finger at, is me. God. I remember why I used to hate myself so much.


	13. Like Violence, You Have Me

Sunlight stings my eyes. I sit up on the bed, rubbing my eyes gently. I don't want to tug at the slices across my face. Last night…comes back to me. It wasn't anything special. Awkward bits of conversation followed by long droughts of silence. I was happy, when I felt tired enough to sleep.

Charon offered me the bed. Gentleman behavior, though, nothing more. I took it, happy to sleep on something not a naval cot or couch. It took me a while to fall asleep, though. I had to be quiet, stifle sobs and sniffles. Charon slept on the floor, at the foot of the bed. He could hear me, but I was quiet enough for him not to worry. Not that he did, but still. I had a sad, restless sleep. I didn't enjoy it, and I'm actually happy to be awake. Later on, hopefully, we'll be heading home.

I slip out of bed. Last night I dressed, so I'd be ready to go first thing. I look down and see Charon messing with a Reservists Rifle.

"Where'd that come from?"

"Under the bed."

He answers casually, peering through the scope.

"Are we going to need it?"

"We are to kill our target without much disruption. Get in, get out."

"Oh."

He straps the rifle to his back, along with his shotgun, and stands. He examines my face for a minute, before nodding.

"Let's go."

Usually it's me leading the charge, me leading him, me…feeling like I was in charge. Now, I follow him out the door. He looks around, nodding when he doesn't see any enemies. I follow him, close, but far enough where he won't get angry. I've never seen Charon act this way, ever. He's acting cold, distant, but he's open and ready to tell me whatever is on his mind. It's new to me.

"We have to get up there."

He points to a steep hill. At the very top, I see a church. It's pretty, in the morning fog.

"Okay."

Swiftly, we walk. There's enemies everywhere, I can see them on my Pip-Boy. The last thing we need is to give our position away. I'm still not sure exactly why I'm here, I mean, Charon is perfectly capable of doing this all on his own. It seems my only job is to get in the way. I look up at the sky, and through the misty fog, clouds loom overhead.

"It's going to rain."

I state, as we start climbing uphill. Charon looks up and mutters something, but I don't hear him. I just sigh, and follow, making sure the dirt doesn't sift and I end up falling. Pretty soon, I hear thunder, and the sky flashes to life. I've always liked watching storms. They happened pretty often in New Vegas. Well, not pretty often, but more than the Capital Wasteland has ever seen. Actually, I'm not sure it rains out there. Back home. Storms are pretty, I think so.

"We should hurry. I want to set up before it rains."

Charon says, and I nod. Even though his back is to me and he can't see me, I still nod. Another flash of lightning, and another boom of thunder happens. I glance down at my Pip-Boy, and see the red tick marks vanishing. Maybe they don't like the rain? Either way, it suits me just fine. I don't want to have a run-in with anyone.

Charon makes his way to where we need to be, and I follow close behind. He takes the rifle off of his back, and lays down in the long grass. I copy him, still not sure what I'm supposed to do. He sets up the rifle, and peers through the scope.

"No shot…"

He says, sighing.

"What am I supposed to do?"

"Stay out of my way and make sure no enemies ambush me."

"That's it?"

"Yup."

Wow, I'm so damn important. Rolling away from him, I lie on my back, staring up at the cloudy sky, up through the fog. In a way, it's peaceful here. It's warm, humid, dense. Aside from the unusually strong enemies, it's inviting. Id stay here, if I could, and live in the trees. Yeah, the trees. I'd climb to the top of them, and build a house in one. It would be called a tree-house. I'd eat the fruit that grows here, and paint my body with strange designs that mean nothing, but scare everyone. That's a pretty decent way of living, I think so.

The rain starts off slow, but then picks up. It's a steady steam, it's warm, too. I'm not bothered by the feel of mud beneath my body, in fact I enjoy it. Makes me feel like I'm laying on a mattress that bends just to me.

"This makes it harder…"

Charon mutters, and I turn my head towards him.

"What do we do now?"

"Wait. I haven't seen my target. We wait until I can get a shot, then we leave."

"What about your caps?"

"Upon completion, the caps will be inside somewhere under a trapdoor. Simple matter of finding it."

"Seems pretty unreliable."

"My sources do not cross me."

I shrugged, and pushed myself up off the soft earth. I wouldn't fuck with him either. He did, after all, crack me with his gun. Next, he just might shoot me.

"I'm going on an adventure and you're not invited."

"Don't wander too far."

I sigh, and roll my eyes at him. I'll wander off as far as I fucking please. There's no enemies, they all went away somewhere. Not entirely sure where, but hell they're not bothering me. Enjoying the rain and the humidity, I walk towards the other side of the big hill. Peering over the edge, I find I'm on a cliff, with the ocean below, accompanied by a few dozen jagged rocks.

"Danger, danger…"

I mutter, and back away slowly. You know, this place really is nice. Maybe I will stay. Hell I can coop up in the motel until I find a nice tree. And who knows? Maybe I'll meet a nice boy out here. You can never be too sure, you know? I can always dream. If I can't dream about Charon, I can dream about other things.

"Hey Charon?"

I call, making sure there's still no enemies in sight.

"What?"

"What do you think of me staying here?"

A few minutes pass, before I hear him call back.

"Do what you want."

Since the shower conversation, he's been cold, mean almost. I guess that's about all the emotion I'll ever get out of him. I really wish if that's the case, he would have spaced it out over our time here so I could at least feel wanted. Rather, I feel really fucking stupid for even agreeing to come.

I shrug at his response, and absentmindedly wander. The church looks really pretty in the rain, with the fog all around it. The trees are actually somewhat living, and the grass is kind of green. You don't find this kind of stuff back home. It's a nice change. I like it. I wish we could have rain and grass and trees in the Capital Wasteland. Instead, we have bramble, rocks, dead trees, and so much dirt you don't know what to do with.

I begin to kind of spin and twirl to music in my head. I think of the song 'Maybe', as I run my hands over the wet grass. I hope Charon thinks of me when I leave again. I hope that…I'm all he can think about. I hope that he realizes I'm the one for him. But…when and if he does realize that, it'll be too late. I plan on not ever even thinking about him after this. I don't want to, because I realize now how stupid it is, how pointless, how…much of a waste it is.

I slip on some loose mud, and fall down. It's okay though, because I pick myself up pretty fast. I don't want to be caught off guard, like I was with that ghoul the other day. I don't need another run-in like that, hell that'd just be bad. Looking around, I see a human standing a few yards away. Glancing back, I can see Charon carefully laying in the mud, looking through his scope. He won't miss me, and meeting new people is the first step to detachment from the old.

Steadily, I walk towards the person. I wave my hands, and smile, showing them I'm friendly. Although I really shouldn't use hand gestures. In New Vegas, I learnt the hard way that sometimes a friendly wave, means a fight. I was at a bar, and waved to a guy on the other side. Frankly I just wanted someone to pay for my drinks, but this guy had other plans. Different ones.

Apparently, wherever he's from, waving means you want to fight. I've never heard of a more bullshit reason to pick a fight, but hell whatever floats boats. We ended up fighting, a long round, too. He was stronger than me, but I was faster than him. Dislocated my jaw, though. Hurt like a bitch and was sore for a couple days, because I didn't have enough radiation to actually heal it. But either way, I learnt a valuable lesson that night: don't wave. Some people might see it as a gesture, others might see it as an invitation to fight. Sure I don't know if that guy was bullshitting me or not, but I'd rather not risk that chance out here.

Putting my arms down, I at least saw I got their attention. As I got closer to the person, I began to make out their frame more clearly. I'm relieved it's not a ghoul, but I'm concerned. Their body is turned inward, belly distended. I can tell it's a man, because all they're wearing is trousers. Hell I know it's hot out, but is it really _that_ bad? I cock an eyebrow, and I stop walking.

"Hey! You alright!"

I call to them, curious. I see them move towards me, slow at first, then picking up pace. As they get closer, and I can see them better through the thick fog, I realize they're carrying a Hunting Rifle. Just to be safe, I grab my own gun, and make sure it's loaded. It is, and I wrap my hand around the handle, finger on the trigger.

"I'm eatin' good tonight!"

I hear him call, and I cock an eyebrow. What? Did he find something decent to eat? He runs towards me, one arm waving, another clutching his rifle. He runs, faster, advancing on me quickly.

"Hey, you okay?"

I call again, but instead he lets out a drawl, a cheer. It's an accent, Charon would say.

"I hope ya'll like Chinese food!"

Suddenly, it hits me. This person isn't running over in excitement, hell _I'm_ that dinner! How could I be so goddamn stupid? Damn me, and my long absence. It's made me forget my guard, made me feel safe even in the most unsafe places. Turning, I run, my boots sliding in the mud. It's not easy, I've never run in mud before. I mean hell I've been in it, over in New Vegas, but I've never actually had to _run for my life_ in it.

"Die, outsider!"

The person yells, just as a stray bullet from his gun grazes past my face. Shit, shit, shit. I don't even know what direction I'm running in. Hell I soon find out, though, when I fall on my ass in the mud to prevent myself from falling over the cliff.

"Shit!"

I scream, fumbling to readjust the gun in my hand. A clap of thunder makes me jump, and I look around. No sign of the…person. The rain picks up, almost down-pouring. My hair mattes to my face, the ponytail useless. I look around, scared, laying in the mud.

"There y'all is!"

I jump up, slipping a bit, and look to my left. Goddamn guy hid in the grass. Go figure. I fire off two shots, hitting him once. The bullet causes him to jerk back, it hits him in the arm. Not exactly good aim, if you ask me.

"Aw goddarn it! Look what you gone and done!"

He glares at me, those beady, little eyes. I shake with nerves as I fumble for more ammo. Shit I have to get a better gun. I need one I can shoot more than once, or at least not have to reload with single shells. I watch carefully, the man advancing slowly on me, his gun aimed.

"Now don't you be tryin' no outsider tricks ya hear? My cousin will be right round her ein 'bout a few so why don't you jus' stay put and all 'ight?"

I shake, but I ignore his stupid words. Cracking open my shotgun, I get a grip on the shells, and begin to load them in. The cracking sound of his gun going off causes me to jump, dropping both gun and shells.

"Now I told you no outsider tricks! You go on and sit down now, ya hear? My cousin gona be here an finish you off nice 'n quick so we can get us some good eats."

I don't think whatever this guy is, can understand real English. I'm not good with whatever type of slang he's using either, so I listen to him. I sit down in the mud, and he stands over me, with his gun aimed right at my head.

"You look like you got all them teeth o' yours, too. See my cousin don't have no teeth an' we been tryna find him some."

He cocks his gun, and the fear sinks in that this whole bit isn't a joke. This is the Super Mutant of Point Lookout, and I am one stupid fuck. I look around, but I don't dare move. The man, thing, person, being, crouches down, still holding his gun.

"You be a pretty lil' thing maybe we guna keep you alive we need some breedin' folk."

Oh. Great. Breeding with a seemingly inbred person. This is just how I wanted to spend my time in Point Lookout. Being threatened and held hostage by something that doesn't even speak proper English. I'd much rather have landed in a Super Mutant nest. At least they _look_ strong, so I wouldn't feel like such a dope.

"Now come here lil thing let me see your face."

He grabs my chin with one of his gross, filthy, hands and I freak out.

"Don't touch me!"

I smack him, and he gets mad. Whatever 'he' is, anyways.

"Now look what you done did! Makin' me feel all hurt and pain, you guna be payin for that!"

He steps back to adjust his gun, and I close my eyes. The image of Charon and I at the river, with a small campfire, when the Talons ambushed me, it flashes in my mind. I open my mouth, and I feel like that girl again.

"Charon! Charon!"

I scream, bellowing loud enough for Tobar to hear down at the pier. The thing, the man, accidentally pulls the trigger on his gun. Not only is it directly in my ear, but the bullet takes a piece of my ear off as it speeds by. Nothing too bad, but hell, I'm deaf _and_ bleeding.

"Look what you done made me do now!"

He screams, but I don't hear it as loud as he's saying it. There's a violent ringing in my ear. I know after every shot from a Hunting Rifle, you have to switch it to shoot again. I take this as my chance to stand up, to back away. I do stand, and he's not happy.

"Now lady I done said to _stay_!"

He aims the gun at me, I can't tell if he's reloaded or not. I put my hands up in front of me, not really sure what plan or tactic to use. Do I run? Do I let myself get shot? Do I charge him? Actions run through my mind, my heart races.

"Darn, my cousin guna be real sorry I had to kill you. Least we be having some good eats!"

He does a maniacal laugh, and before he can squeeze the trigger, I see Charon come flying out from the right side of me. He knocks the man with his plated shoulder, tossing his entire body on top of him. I hear the man scream, as I watch Charon raise an angry fist high into the air. The sound of cracking bones stops the ringing in my ear, and I watch, careful. Charon stands, tossing the Hunting Rifle behind him, holding the man by the hair. He effortlessly lifts him, lifts him high over his head, and throws him over the cliff. I can hear his screams until a 'thud' silences them.

Looking over, I smile at Charon. He stares over the edge, out of breath, angry. He saved me. He did, just like old times. I catch his eye, though, when he looks at me, and instantly the smile fades from my face.

"My ear got hurt."

I say quickly, pointing to it. It doesn't seem to register for him, and he advances on me.

"I told you not to wander off!"

He screams, I've never seen him like this before.

"I didn't! I stayed close!"

I yell back, suddenly angry.

"You not only almost got yourself killed, you fucked up my shot! Now he knows! I could have had him!"

"I didn't make you come to my rescue!"

"You screamed my name loud enough for the whole fucking island to hear!"

"Fuck you!"

I shove him, and in the mud he slips. He doesn't fall, but he does lose balance for a minute. I hold back a laugh, but when I look at him again, I see the anger rising up in his face.

"Don't you shove me again!"

"Or else what?"

I test him, and push him again. He glares at me.

"Goddamnit Dezbe I needed that shot!"

"For what? For the caps? The caps to support your whore of a girlfriend! Go on go take another shot! Go!"

I scream, waving my arms in the air.

"Don't you insult her! You have no right!"

"I have ever fucking right! Fuck you! Fuck your job! Fuck your stupid whore!"

Anger seeps through me, anger. I'm angry at how he's been acting. Angry at how he gets so upset when he sees me with Tobar, when he sees me in danger, but acts like nothing changed. He glares at me, for a second, before tackling me to the ground. This isn't the first of our brawls. He taught me how to do this, I'm just as good as he is.

"Let me go!"

I scream, elbowing him in the back of the neck. He cringes, and lets my torso go enough for me to slide out from his grip. Of course, the mud helps too. I stand, glaring down at him. He stands up, and I keep a distance.

"I bet you never fucking hit her, huh? I bet you don't even fuck her!"

"Shut up!"

"No! No you fucking listen! You're a sorry excuse for a man for what you're doing! Supporting a dumb bitch because you can't fucking leave! That's bullshit! Even Gob wouldn't do that shit!"

"I said _shut up_!"

Charon lunges again, but this time I'm ready. I punch him, directly in the face. It doesn't really hinder him much, because he punches me back almost instantly, right in the diaphragm, crippling me. Violence. He's my violence.

"F-f-fuck you!"

I sputter, coughing, straightening myself up. I glare at him, wiping some spit with the back of my hand out of the corner of my mouth.

"You take me here for no reason. You fucking lie to yourself about everything. I don't know who the fuck you think you are, but you're not the Charon I left."

Thunder roars, the rain pours down. Charon and I soak in the rain, sink in the mud. He clasps and unclasps his fists, anger pulsating through him.

"You don't know what you're talking about!"

"I do! Fuck you Charon I know _exactly_ what I'm talking about! I bet you wouldn't fucking throw a man off a cliff for Lily! That _stupid whore_!"

I shriek it, scream it and rub it in his face. Charon doesn't want to hear any more, I can tell, because he charges me like one pissed off Brahmin. I slip in the mud, loosing my footing. His shoulder buries in my stomach, his hands grab my arms. I can't breathe, winded. Gasping for air, I feel his weight on top of me, feel him pressing me down into the earth. I feel the grip and hold he has on my body, and I suck in as much air as I can when I feel my lungs coming back.

"Let me go!"

I gasp, trying to squirm free. Charon lifts himself up, but he keeps me pinned. He stares down at me, the rain framing his body, mud seeping into my boots.

"You should have never come back!"

He screams in my face, and I smirk, I'm one sadomasochistic bitch.

"I did! I fucking came back! I came back and fucked your shit right up! Go on! Kill me so you never have to see me again!"

"Shut up!"

"Do it you pussy! Fuck you! Take your fucking chance!"

"I said _shut up_! Shut up!"

"No! Go on! Kill me! Go back to your fucking home! Your apartment and fuck your ice queen! Fuck her on the same bed we fucked in!"

Charon pushes me deeper into the mud. The pressure he puts on my body makes it so heavy, it'd break, I'd break, if the mud wasn't there. He stares down at me, unrelenting, uncaring.

"Pussy."

I growl, giving up on struggling. We glare at one another, lightning flashes behind him. I close my eyes, and lean my head back.

"Kill me, you mother fucker. Do it. I fucking _want_ you do. Prove you're still a man."

"I don't need to prove _anything_ to you."

"Then kill me so you can finish with Lily. So you can live happily ever after with no invasions on my part. Just fucking _kill me_."

Slowly, slowly, I feel Charon's hands carefully creeping up to my neck. When he realizes I'm not going to struggle, he lifts both hands off of my body, and places them around my neck. I feel him add pressure, slowly clogging my windpipe, constricting it so that all I can do is wheeze. I keep my eyes closed, waiting to feel the rest, waiting to see that supposed white light at the end of the tunnel. He keeps his grip firm, he doesn't tighten, I can feel the hesitation in his veins. To get him going, I kick him in the leg. I can't talk now, even if I tried. Rain splashes beside me, on me, all over and everywhere. I open my eyes slightly, and catch the look in Charon's eyes. Slowly, I feel his grip loosening, waves splash up against the cliff, I can hear them. His hands slide down back to my shoulders, but place no pressure.

"I…can't."

I turn my head down, towards him. He looks at me, anger, sadness, loss in his eyes. A flash of lightning followed by a quick burst of thunder echoes for miles. He shakes his head at me.

"I can't."

He repeats, louder, pressing down on my shoulders.

"Do it."

I'm too angry to drop it, too hurt to let him get away with this. Charon straddles me, his legs on either side of mine.

"No."

I bare my teeth at him, he blinks, looking away. I feel a cold shudder run through my spine, I'm angry at him.

"Fuck you. You can't fucking follow an order. You're a sorry excuse for a mercenary."

"I can't kill you, Dezbe. I can't…"

I've never seen him this way. His shoulders hunched over, the look of defeat and…sadness so prominent in his eyes. The rain rolls off of his armor, drips off of his ghoulified face. He stares at the ground, lost in his own mind.

"If you don't, I'll ruin everything for you. I'll do everything to destroy what you have with Lily. I swear to god I will."

He doesn't move, but his eyes do, and he looks at me.

"I don't care."

His answers are short, but not cold. There's hopelessness attached to them.

"I might kill her."

"It doesn't matter."

"In front of you."

"…If that's what you want."

"…Stop agreeing with me. You're pathetic."

He sighs, he moves, but not off of me.

"For five years…Dez, five, I…I can't let it happen this way. I can't…hurt you. I can't argue with you. I can't…let you run off again."

"Then give me my gun. I'll do it myself."

"No."

"Then you're putting your family in danger. I'll kill them Charon, you know me, I will."

"I know. They're not my family, you're right."

"Stop fucking agreeing!"

His words enrage me. I reach up and hit him in the face, I punch him as hard as I can while laying down. He takes my wrist, in his hand, and I try to hit him with my other hand, I do, but he takes that, too.

"Fuck you! Let me go!"

Charon looks at me, water dripping down his face. He pins my wrists down beside my head, bending my arms so that even if I did get free, I'd have to unbend my arm to hit him again. I squirm, struggle, and before I know it, his weight displaces on me. He shifts, moving, his eyes catching mine. I feel the blood flow slowing, my fingers tingle, pins and needles start to kick in. I glare at him, angry. I feel him moving, feel him shifting and making this whole this more uncomfortable than it already is.

"Charon fuck you! Let me go!"

I try to squirm again, but he stops me. He doesn't tighten his grip on my wrists, he doesn't press a knee down into my stomach. Hell he doesn't even knock me in the face with his head. Instead…my heart stops. I feel his lips, pressing against mine, so familiar, so warm. It takes me a while, to catch up with the scene, but I do. I close my eyes, I close them as tight as I can, praying this isn't a dream. I kiss him back, feeling the grip he has on my wrists leaving.

I wrap my dirty, muddy hands around his shoulders, I feel his arms curve under and around my back. He lifts me from the mud, moving backwards so I can kneel in front of him, kneel with him. The rain is relentless, beating down, but I don't care. Charon's lips part mine, I let him in. No one's been able to make me feel this alive. In five years, I've never felt this way, no one's made me. I feel his hands tangle in my wet, my matted hair. I grip on to his leather armor, like my whole life depends on it. Charon, my Charon, he's mine. I don't care, I don't care what I have to do, he's mine. I need him, I need him so bad. Not even sexually, but mentally, emotionally. He has no idea, either, how much I need him.

I feel him pull apart, pull away. I don't want him to. I try to follow him, try to catch him. He gives me a soft kiss, a short one. His fingers graze over the cuts on my face, he looks into my eyes, I missed you so bad.

"Dez…"

He says, and I shake my head.

"No. No you do not say anything. You do not feel bad. You just take me back home, back to the dry room, and you fuck me like crazy."

I can see it in his eyes. I see the guilt, I see the…conviction. He shakes his head at me.

"Dez…I…"

"No! No! You don't do this to me!"

Tears blend with the rain, but I can still feel them. I can feel them in my eyes, burning, sweltering, hurting.

"We…can't…"

"Stop it! You shut up and take me home! Take me back to the motel! Now!"

"No, Dez…we…we…can't."

I stare at him, shaking my head. He still holds the sides of my face in his hands, I don't want him to let go. Reaching up, I wrap my hands around his.

"Charon…Charon _don't_…"

"It was…I'm sorry..."

"You _don't_ love her…she's not _me_. I'm _me_ I'm Dezbe, I'm the goddamned Vigilante of the Capital Wasteland. I'm a fucking…you can't…"

"Stop crying, Dez. Stop it."

"F-f-f-uck you."

I sob out, holding his hands in mine as he presses them against my face. Soon, though, I feel them slipping away. I feel him moving, his presence vanishing. I don't move. I sit, on my knees, crying at the ground. The warm rain suddenly turns cold, at least, to me it does. To me, it feels like ice is pelting me in the back of my head. I had him. I had him. I tasted him. I could feel him, his lips his tongue his everything. He was mine, just like he was so long ago. I hear his footsteps in the mud. They make a sucking sound. I don't bother to listen to a rhythm.

"Come on. We have to make it back. The ferry won't work in the rain. We'll catch it in the morning."

I don't feel my body as I stand. I'm not even in the same realm as it is. My mind is off, far away, in a place unlike this. I stare up at him, blank, with tears and sobs coming out. He can't look at me for long. He turns away, leading me away from the hill, the church, the mansion-like house we were supposed to invade. I follow him, quietly, sobbing once in a while. I want him to know, how much it hurts. How much it pains me. But…but as we walk…he doesn't turn around, not once, doesn't even try.

We get inside, and I pick up the towel I discarded the night before. Burying my face in it, I shake my head, trying to collect myself.

"I am sorry, Dez."

I shake my head at him. I don't want to take my face from the towel, from its soft fuzz.

"I'm not going back with you."

I say, as I pick my mouth up enough for him to understand the words.

"Excuse me?"

I wipe off my face, but tears still come.

"I'm staying. If I…I can't. I just can't handle it. I need to stay away from that place."

"You'll die out here."

"I've been dead for years, Charon. I'm j just a shell, at this point."

He's hurt. He's hurt, and he looks at me while he's hurt.

"Come. Come here."

Soaking wet, he walks over, embracing me. I bury my face in his wet armor, bury it until I can't bury it any deeper. His arms wrap around my body, holding me tight. Outside, lightning lights up the room like sunlight. Loud thunder claps, and I gasp, trying to hold back sobs, hold back everything.

"Take me away from here…"

I mutter, between hurtful mouthfuls of air. I beg, between my pride and my emotions fighting inside.

"I can't."

"Please…please…take me away please…"

His grip around me tightens, I hear rumbling from inside his armor, beneath the faded black shirt, beneath the exposed muscle.

"Dez…shit…"

He curses under his breath. I dig my nails into the leather, into the thin piece of clothing that he's worn since…since the first time we met, and before then.

"I'm not going with you…I'm not…I'm fine without you…when you come back…I…I can't…"

I want him to stay with me. I want him to stay here, stay away, pretend that the world outside this room doesn't exist. I want him to do it for me, but I know he won't. I know he won't stay, he won't take me away. He'll go back to Lily, go back to the ferry once the rain stops. I'll be nothing more than a memory by this time tomorrow. Nothing more than something that once was. I don't want to be what once was, I want to be what is.

"Dez please…please stop crying."

"I can't."

"You have to. You must."

His arms are tight around my back, forcing me into him, forcing me on my tip-toes. I shake my head, rubbing my skin on his armor.

"I'm afraid of being alone…"

"You've been alone for five years, you can do it again."

"I don't want to. I don't want to anymore. You have to stay with me."

"I can't, Dezbe. You know this."

I feel my feet returning to the ground. I feel his grip loosening, vanishing altogether from my body. Charon pulls away, his arms dropping to his sides. I wrap my arms around myself, the salt from my tears stinging the cuts across my face. Gingerly, he takes the guns from his back. He motions that mine is on the bed, that he picked it up for me. I had forgotten all about it. I won't be needing it. I don't need it. I'm not going…to fight anything anymore.

I watch, unmoving, as he strips off his wet armor. His back is to me, as he takes off his wet shirt. The muscles in his back flex, his skin stretches, the bones, his spine, shows through a bit. His hands expertly slide his belt from his pants, and he bends down to take off his boots, his socks. When he's done, he stands with his back to me, only in pants.

"Tomorrow we'll head back to the ferry. There will be jobs for me elsewhere."

I shake my head, even though he can't see. Where did this all go wrong? Where, did I lose my friend?

"I'm not going."

Charon sighs at my statement. He doesn't try to look at me, I don't think he wants to. When I shift my weight to my other foot, I feel the wetness of my own armor, my own discomfort. I ignore it. It's not important. Charon…isn't the same anymore. He's not the man I once knew, the man I once loved, and I wonder why I came.

"Dez, you'll die if you don't. This place is more dangerous than the Capital Wasteland."

"I don't care. I'll figure something out."

I said, looking at the ground. How can I go back to that place? How can I go back, and watch Charon…and Lily…how? Sniffing my nose, I looked up to see Charon slump down in the chair beside the bed. He rubbed his temples with his thumb and pointer finger, his eyes closed.

"Dez…"

"If I don't stay here, I won't stay back home, either."

"Why?"

"Because every time I see you, I'll know you fucked her again. I'll know…that you didn't even want to try with me."

"…It's not that simple, Dez. I can't just up and leave."

"I'm not going to wait for her to leave you. I'm not…I'm not wasting anymore time on you."

Charon opens his eyes and looks up at me.

"Dez, you left. You didn't come back for five years. I wouldn't consider that wasting time."

"I wasted time coming here."

He sighs, and puts his head back. Like walking up a hill exhausted him. Well, we did have a fight, he did fight that man. Wiping tears from my eyes, I look away from him and start stripping myself of my wet armor. Rain smacks against the windows, the door. I shake my head at this nonsense. I can't believe him. When I finally peel away my pants, I stand in only my wet tank top, my wet underwear. Turning around I cross my arms in front of my chest and walk over to him. Kneeling down, I place myself between his legs, looking up at him.

"We can run away. We don't have to go back to the tower. We can run away together, just like I always wanted, like before. We can go wherever you want…"

"I have to go back to Lily."

My hands grip his thighs, tears form in my eyes, and I sigh.

"Charon…"

I sigh, feeling frustrated.

"We can still be friends, Dez, but I can't…leave."

"I don't want to be your friend. I don't. I want you."

Charon avoids eye contact. He looks away from me, at the ceiling. His jaw clenches, and I rise up on my knees, resting my wet head on his warm, warm chest. I can hear his heart beating, and I close my eyes.

"Please…"

I sigh, wrapping my arms around his torso, trying to convince him.

"I can't, Dez. I'm sorry for what happened back there, truly I am. I lost myself in the moment. It meant nothing, you have to see that. It was an impulsive movement, something I wasn't thinking clearly on."

"No, it wasn't. You always think clearly. You've always been the smart one."

"I have a family, Dez. They may not be my own, but they are mine."

I grit my teeth and close my eyes tighter. I don't want to believe a word coming out of his mouth. I don't want to believe anything he has to say. It has to be a lie. He can't…he can't care about her. I refuse to believe it.

"Fine."

I tell him, moving away, pulling apart. He doesn't try to stop me, but just sits in his stupid pants, staring over at the wall, his hand over his mouth.

"Why won't you look at me?"

I ask him, getting angry. Charon doesn't respond, he doesn't move.

"Goddamn you answer me!"

I scream, stomping my foot on the ground. Biting my lip in anger, I taste blood in my mouth, and stop. I lick the inside of my lip, and hear Charon sigh. He rubs his eyes, and then he looks at me.

"What do you want me to say?"

I don't know. I want him to tell me…he'll be with me again. That he'll…take care of me because I'll actually appreciate it.

"I…don't know."

"There's nothing I can possibly tell you that holds truth, that would make this situation better."

I wipe the corners of my mouth for no good reason. I just feel the need to do something with my hands. I guess.

"Tell…tell me you love me? You never…you never did…"

Maybe if I hear it, if I know he did, or does, I can stop being so angry. I can move on, knowing someone cares, knowing he cared. Then…maybe I wouldn't think all of this was a big waste of time. I look at him, he wipes his face with his hand, shaking his head as he grips his chin.

"I'm sorry, Dez."

The words hit me like a ton of bricks. My arms fall to my sides, and I shake my head at him. He never loved me, cared, but not love. He never…not once…ever. Something just ripped right through me. I can feel it, my insides, ripping apart. I fall on the bed, defeated. My hands fall between my knees, and I stare blankly at him.

"I need you, Charon."

He's silent. The only noise is the occasional clap of thunder, coupled with the rain that slams against the windows. I want to speak, but I can't form words. It feels like my brain shut down, like it's not even there. I blink, shaking my head, moving my lips but no sound comes out. When I first left, all I could think about was him. He was the only thing that mattered, even when I convinced myself he didn't matter. Subconsciously, I knew he did. He's always mattered. When other men would enter my bed, I'd think of him. I'd picture him in my mind, remembering his touch and feel. Now…now all of that seems like a dream.

"…Then that's it, I guess."

I find my voice, but it's soft. I've never heard it so soft before. My eyes trail up to him, trail up his body, his chest, meet his eyes.

"I won't let you stay here."

He talks like I'm his, still. Like the conversation we _just_ had never happened. I shake my head at him.

"I'm staying. I have to stay away from you."

Everything inside of my head swims. It swims and blurs and I feel like I'm moving underwater. I feel like I'm…viewing it all in third person. Like I'm not in my own body. Like I'm not even me. Just something…of a bad imitation. I blink slowly, I can hear my eyelids closing and my eyelashes touching. Charon looks like a giant blur, it takes me a while to focus on him.

"Dez…don't do this. Just come home, alright?"

I shake my head, but I don't speak. What's the point? I don't have anything to say to him anymore. I said forever and a day ago, I'd follow him until he loved me. Now…now that seems easier said than done. I pull my bare feet on the bed, rolling away from him I lie down. I don't…want to be near him. I don't want to look at him. I just want to lie here, staring out the window through the spaces, and listen to the rain pit-pat against the walls outside. It's peaceful, if you let it be.

I hear Charon sigh behind me…but I don't care. Forever he was my everything, really. He was my world, the only thing I felt the need to keep going for, the only thing keeping me alive. I see now, how stupid that was. How stupid, to let myself get so wrapped up with someone like that. I mean…I'm pathetic. How could I not find something else to make my life worthwhile? Maybe because I just never found anything better. Charon was the first person to care, to give a damn. I got wrapped up in something way too big for me, I guess.

The bed creaks and shifts behind me. I feel Charon's weight displacing it, moving it. It groans, under our combined weight, and I fight to keep from rolling over.

"Dez…"

He murmurs, his arm reaching over my waist. He pulls my back into him, he's the big spoon, and I hold back tears. Our legs curl up together, his arm maneuvers under my head, and I close my eyes tightly. This would be a perfect moment, if the circumstances were different. I would enjoy this, if I knew he was mine, all mine, the one for me, made for me.


	14. I Wish I Could Take It All Away

When I open my eyes, I can't tell if it's the same day, or a new one. The rain has stopped, but the heavy, dense fog still swirls around. Charon's breathing behind me tells me he's sleeping, and I take this at the prime moment. The only moment I'll ever have. I have to take it.

Gently, slowly, quietly, I move. I get myself out of his grip without waking him. I dress as quickly as possible, trying not to make noise. Grabbing my gun off the foot of the bed, I wipe the mud from the barrel. There's no point in me going home. There's no point in staying in this room. I take one last look around, take one last look at Charon. He sleeps, his arms stretched over where I used to lay. His chest moves up and down gently, his leg twitches in his sleep. I wonder what he's dreaming of, if he's dreaming of me. I walk over, leaning over him, I close my eyes and bring my lips to where an ear once was.

"I have always loved you."

I whisper, kissing his cheek. Afraid it might wake him, I grab the Reservist Rifle from the floor, and make my escape. There's no point in any of this anymore, but at least this time, I told him how I felt. Whether he heard me or not, doesn't matter. I told him, and that's all I need. I can only hope when he wakes up, he misses me, and wishes me well. I know deep down, I wish him well. I do, because I've always loved him. I've never stopped. Ever.


	15. Always Wanting You

(Charon)

I am in a field. There is grass all around. This place, is not the Capital Wasteland. The sun is warm, but springtime warm, when there once was spring. Blue skies and white clouds drift overhead in the summer breeze. Is it summer, or spring? I do not know, but I enjoy it. I inhale the smell, scents of fresh flowers, fresh budding trees, invade my nostrils. Spring, late spring, yes, my favorite time of year. I look around, I am standing on a hill.

Looking down at my hands, I see…I am human. I touch my face, my skin, my body, everything is there. Not a ripple of muscle, not the toughness of tendons, I am human. My ears and nose are in place, my lips are soft, my cheeks smooth.

"Charon!"

I hear my name being called, and I glance behind me. I am still in my leather armor, as I have been for years. A woman in one of those large-brimmed hats, a white one, laughs and smiles at me. She has long red and orange hair, it flows down to her waist, with a curl to it. The woman wears a white sun dress, with yellow flowers. It's one of those halter-cut dresses, the kind with the exposed back that hangs around the neck. The hem of the dress comes to her knees, and she laughs, her eyes hidden by her plump cheeks. I have never seen her so happy, so perfectly sun-kissed and bright. Dezbe.

I smile at her, and she twirls in the long, green grass. Her laughter echoes for miles, carrying out with the wind. I'm not sure where I am in the world, but it is perfect, I enjoy it more than I have anything else in my life. I walk over to her, and she stops spinning. I notice now she has freckles on her cheeks. Has she had them this whole time? I've never noticed them before. She has no scars, there isn't a thin layer of dust over her, and her skin is fair. Her eyes trail over me, and her hand lifts as she runs her fingers through my own thick, auburn-red hair.

Her hands hare the smoothest I've ever felt, as she caresses my cheeks, smiling up at me. I am human, like her, I have skin. She stares into my blue eyes, her pink, full lips moving.

"Blue."

She says, and her voice floats through me. There isn't a trace of the Capital Wasteland on her, nothing that would hint of the demons in her head. She is as I've never seen her before, free, beautiful, peaceful. I place my hands on her small waist, delicate, she feels breakable beneath my grip.

"You'll save me, won't you? Keep me safe from all the bad things?"

"There are no bad things here, Dez."

My voice is smooth. I have not heard it like this in over two-hundred years. It doesn't have the gritty undertone that ghoulification creates. It is strong, bold, masculine. I can't help but smile at it.

"But if there are, you'll keep me safe, won't you?"

"Yes."

She stands on her tip-toes, arms wrapping around my shoulders. I bend down, meeting her halfway. Our lips meet halfway, I feel their softness, the tenderness of hers against my own. If this is real, don't take it away. If this is a dream, don't make me wake. I'm human, normal, I'm with her, happy. Nothing matters, it's perfect. Dez pulls from me, her face shining like it never has before.

"Charon?"

"Yeah?"

"I have always loved you."

I pry my eyes open, open to the dim lighting of the motel room. Sitting up, I rub my eyes, my head. A dream. A silly dream. I groan, how long have I been asleep? It's quiet, the rain stopped. I wipe sleep from my eyes, only to see my ghoulified hands. I was a dream, it was too perfect not to be. Shaking my head, I glance down at the space where Dez lay. She isn't there.

"Dez?"

I call, more confused than concerned. My eyes scan the room, the bathroom door is open. I feel my heart beginning to race in my chest, quickly I stand.

"Dez!"

I call again, but no answer. Looking at the floor, I see her armor gone. Her gun, gone. My rifle, gone.

"Shit!"

I dress quickly, not bothering to properly lace my boots. She left me. The words…I heard them. They caused me to wake. She couldn't have gone far, no. Dez is not stealthy, she is not faster than I. Throwing open the motel door, I grip my shotgun, and look into the fog. Dez could be anywhere. This fog is thick, you cannot see your hand in front of your face.

"Dez!"

I shout, not caring what enemies I may alert. The ghouls are no problem, they will not harm me, but the Swampfolk, they are not weak. Dez can't take them. They're stronger than a Super Mutant, nearly matching a Super Mutant Master, perhaps even stronger. I jog out of the motel grounds, and stand on a cracked and overgrown road.

"Dez!"

My voice is gritty, ghoulified. I shake my head, turning quickly. The wind blows, and grass rustles. Where could she have gone? In the distance, I hear Tobar's boat, the Duchess Gambit, bells ringing. Yes, yes Tobar. She ran to him she had to of. She wouldn't go into an unknown land, would she? I don't know. I find my feet moving quick, running, jumping over obstacles. I jump down the stairs that lead to the pier, the boardwalk. I run past the Ferris Wheel, calling her name.

"Dezbe!"

She can't be far. She has to be close, somewhere. Had she run, I would have heard her, would have noticed something broken or tossed aside. There's no way she can maneuver this type of terrain easily. Dez is used to the dry, arid world of the Capital Wasteland. Not this, not this humid, wet place. It would be near impossible for her to run without leaving _something_ behind.

"Tobar!"

I scream, that bastard, as I approach the boat.

"There's a break in the storm. We don't leave soon, we won't leave for another week."

He works with his back to me, he won't look at me. He's fearful of me.

"Is Dez here? Did she climb aboard?"

I asked, rushed, winded. Tobar stands, shaking his head and finally turning towards me.

"Naw, haven't seen her. Wasn't she with you?"

"She took off."

"Well I'm leaving port soon."

No. Another week? I do not have the necessary materials to survive a week here. I look around, seeing Scavengers off in the far off distance. Perhaps…

"Give me an hour."

I demand, and Tobar looks towards the sky.

"I'd say you have that. But no more, you hear? I have to get the fuck out of here before the storm comes back."

I don't bother to reply, there is no time for useless conversation. Rather, I run back to the boardwalk, back to the Ferris Wheel.

"Dez!"

I call again, my voice echoing. Thoughts race through my head. She could have gotten hurt, lost, someone could have taken her. No, no not Dez. She is strong, too strong for that. If anything she would scream my name so loud the heavens above would hear. Shit, where is she? I thought she was kidding about staying, fooling, to get a reaction out of me. How could I be so stupid? Dez isn't the type to 'kid'. When she says something, often, she means it. I look around as I jog, look at the broken games, rides, lockers. A flash of lightning signifies the storm is returning.

"Hey! Hey ghoul!"

I stop in my tracks, looking around. I glance to my left, and see a girl standing against one of the old game booths. For a moment, I think she is Dez. But her hair, although the same color and texture, is shorter. Her eyes are set too close together, her nose too…manly. She wears something like the Tribal's here do, and she looks at me with a coy smirk.

"You lookin' for someone?"

I nod, keeping my gun tightly gripped in my hand.

"Skinny little girl, hair in a ponytail, wearing something from the Capital Wasteland?"

Dez.

"Yes."

I say, narrowing my eyes. The girl points with her thumb carelessly.

"Saw her few hours back. Went to Calvert Mansion. Walked right on in."

Calvert Mansion, the place I was supposed to invade. The man, ghoul there, Desmond, is vile. He was my target.

"She's alive…"

I sigh, relieved but still not out of the woods.

"Yeah she's alive alright. Just barely, though. Saw her get ambushed by a few ghoul-folk on her way. Ran for her life shooting that stupid gun. Made a racket."

"Is she still there?"

The girl shrugs, careless. I want to strangle her, force her to hurry up and tell me what she knows.

"Hell if I know. All I saw was her go in, and not come out. Figure Des has her holed up in there, bastard."

Des, and Dez, how quaint. I shake my head, advancing on the girl.

"She's safe, you said?"

"Yeah I mean well, I don't know much about Desmond Lockheart, but I figure she's alright. You two come here for vacation? Shitty place to visit. Pretty dangerous, too."

I don't have time for small talk, but I don't have time to get Dez, either. I stare ahead, knowing the mansion is through the fog.

"What's your name?"

I ask her, growing impatient. Air horns from the Duchess Gambit tell me I have to hurry back, the hour not yet up, but the storm coming fast.

"Nadine. I'm running with the Tribal."

"Nadine, you listen to me, alright?"

"Uh, whatever."

"You watch Dez, the girl, you watch her. Make sure she's safe, you hear? Meet me at this very spot in a week and a half. I will be back."

"What's in it for me?"

"Caps. Lots of caps."

"I have no use for caps."

More horns, I have no time for this.

"What do you want, then?"

Nadine looks down, sad.

"Pay my way to go back home. When you come back, and I'll watch this girl for you."

"Fine. Remember, meet me _here_."

She nods and I run back. I have to meet the boat. I don't want to leave, but I must. I don't want to leave Dez, but I have to. I won't survive here, if I stay for another week. I have to return home and get supplies, get whatever I can, and come back. A heavy weight pulls at my chest, as I jog towards the boat. Tobar, I can see him, is in front of the wheel on the second floor. I'm able to make it, just as the Gambit pulls out of port. Winded, I turn. The fog is dense, but for a moment it seems to lift. For an instant, I can see the silhouette of the Calvert Mansion. It looms atop its hill, foreboding. Mocking. I narrow my eyes, and inside I pity the person who is with her. Desmond. If he lays a hand on her, I will personally tear him limb from limb.

Soon, the fog drifts back, and I can no longer see any part of Point Lookout. Tobar turns on a light in front of the boat, to better see. I take a seat inside the small cabin, angry, furious. How could I have been so blind? Of _course_ Dez would leave. She stated she would, I…I caused her to. If I hadn't…shit. Shit. It's my fault, it's my fault. If I had controlled myself better, if I had restrained myself, if I had not been so _foolish_.

The way she looked. The way the rain fell on her face, how the mud seeped up, how the anger flushed in her eyes…it was as if she had never left. The passage of time meant nothing, I was staring into her eyes, the eyes of a Dez I once knew. I couldn't control myself, I had to…I shouldn't have. She was so angry, so goddamn persistent. Her lips, her breath, her taste, I fell into it all. I absorbed it, became mesmerized by it, pulling from her was the hardest thing I've ever had to do. I was shocked I had the self-control to end it. I told her it meant nothing.

Maybe if I hadn't said that, perhaps if I had told her it meant everything. That it was just as I remembered kissing her was, that I wanted nothing more than to take her as far away as I could and never once look back. I couldn't, though. I couldn't give her false hope. I couldn't even admit that I had loved her, and still love her. It would create a monster. I know Dez, I know her well enough to know that she would harm Lily. She would harm Mackenzie. Not that Dez is crazy enough to but because she is vicious enough. The world turned her into that person. It killed me, having to tell her such a horrid lie.

Burying my face in my hands, I shake my head. I arrived with her, hoping to leave on the grounds of a friendship. Now, I leave alone. I leave her there, possibly scared, and hurt. Seeing her face as she sobbed, hearing her cries as I led her back to the motel…broke my heart. There has been no greater pain in my life, physically or emotionally, that is able to match up to what I felt. I thought I was stronger than this, hardened, angrier. I am not. Deep inside, I still do anything I can for her. I still want to.

Memories of Sara Lyons and Gunny somehow float into my mind. A pool of blood forms around my feet, as Gunny clings to his last, thin threads of life. Dez has her gun aimed high at Sara, who is holding Zack in her arms. The scene unfolds too fast for my mind to process, at the time, that is. One minute Sara is holding a knife to the infant, and the next she lies dead on the floor, head nearly gone, and Dez bends down to lift the bundle that is Zack. I've never seen that look on her before. The look of peace, of motherhood. She cradles Zack close, cooing to him, hushing his shrill cries. I remember that day, thinking I would do anything for her at that moment. I failed.

It was possibly the last time I saw her so at ease, other than in my dream. After we returned Zack, Dez remained distant towards me. She was aware we would be parting, and didn't want to get close. I respected her actions, and did the same. Five years…she has to understand things are so different now. That things can never be what they once were. But like her, she doesn't. She only sees what she wants, what she wants to see, thinking her way is always right. It angers me, because I can't make her _see_ how different my life is now. There's no room for her, there can't be. Lily and Mackenzie…fuck they need me. Dez doesn't care Dez…

"I have always loved you."

The words are real. I did not just simply dream them. Did she tell them to me? Before her departure? I don't know, my head…I can't figure it out. She only ever told me she loved me once, when her father passed, when she clung to me, scared and sad. I have never once uttered the words to her. I guess she is braver, than I ever hope to be. And I left her. I left her there, at Point Lookout, with no word. I am sure she thinks I've abandoned her, yet a second time. In fact, I am positive she does. Dez is not…she is not stupid. She knows I was planning on leaving, knows that by nightfall I will not come for her.

I'm so sorry. I have never felt such waves of grief and sadness and…it is a sickening mixture. One I am not fond of feeling. I cannot leave Lily, but…if I truly had no feelings for Dez, I would not be feeling such pain. I love her, I know I do, still. When I lost control, allowed myself to kiss her and give her hope for a fleeting moment, I knew what was once there, still is. I have a lot of things, emotions, flooding me right now but I must keep my head straight. I must formulate a plan. I must…save her, just as I promised her I would. Just as…she asked me to.

I stare at the floor in shock, at the wooden, creaking floor. It hits me, suddenly. A bright, but sad realization. I have always saved her. I have always come to her aid, her rescue, even when she didn't need it. She has always depended on me and now…now when she needs me most I turn my back. For what? For Lily, I presume. Lily. Who screams, yells, who nags and makes every day a near-living hell. But who still I have grown a fondness for, a tenderness, a small fraction of love. Lily, who I refuse to leave because I feel it will deem me less of a man. Yet now I wonder…what makes me a worse man? Leaving Lily and her small child to fend for themselves, knowing they will fare fine in Megaton, or abandoning Dez in her volatile state in Point Lookout?

When I return, my plan is to take Roy Phillips and Gob back here with me. Perhaps Gob will be too much, he can't shoot a gun to save his own ass, let alone Dez's. Roy seems best suited for this, a police officer before the Great War, he knows how to handle himself. He'd know, and understand. Getting him out of the tower will be an entirely different thing, however. But I cannot venture back here alone. I don't know much about Desmond Lockheart, I cannot take my chances. The hardest obstacle…is what the hell am I going to say to Lily?

Do I tell her I must save Dez? No, she will panic, and she has every right to. So what _do_ I say? I don't know, I don't know. Clinging to my head, I shake from the stress. Dez…Dez…her name runs through my mind, the image of her freckled and sun-kissed cheeks staring up at me burns in my eyes. I left her. I left her alone. I'm not a man, I left a woman in an unknown place. I'm nothing more than a rotten bastard, for doing that.


	16. It Amazes Me, the Will of Instinct

Desmond isn't such a bad guy. I mean, I expected someone else, I guess, when I knocked on his door. Caught him in the middle of fighting some weird, crazy people. Helped him out. He thanked me, and then I got down to business. Well, actually, he didn't thank me. Kind of insulted me, actually. Not the point, though. After he 'insulted' me and my efforts, I laid down the law. I asked for a place to stay. I asked for some dry clothes, and some hot food. Desmond Lockheart, is a bastard.

At first there was this big argument, how dare I enter his house, who did I think I was, and blah blah blah. Eventually, I stopped fighting with him. I just walked over to the giant stairs in the middle of his giant, and beautiful, house, and sat there. He screamed and cursed for a bit, then noticed me. He noticed how sad I was, how defeated I became. Desmond was nice, after that. He let me tell him a bit of my story, a bit of what happened with Charon and I. Then, he let me stay.

He told me I could have any room I wanted. His accent reminded me of Colin Moriarty, but a bit different. I didn't ask him, though. Any room I wanted, and I could have anything in the kitchen, too. I picked the biggest room, with the biggest bed, and the prettiest dress. He told me if I stay here, I can't run around in 'filthy outlandish clothes'. He said I have to dress like a 'proper lady'. Although, he admits, the last time he saw a lady who didn't want to kill him was when he had skin. As long as it gives me a home, a dry place until I can figure out my next move, I'll do it. Problem…problem is I'm not happy.

Around my third night here, Desmond…got strange. He got drunk off of something called 'Moonshine'. I've never heard of it, but from the smell, it seems like a strong liquor. I won't touch it, I don't want to because I know I'll get stuck on it. Anyways, he drank a lot. I was in my room, reading pre-war books, trying to pass time. There's nothing else to do, really. I've explored the grounds and the house, and there's no big deal with any of it anymore. He comes in my room, drunk as a bastard, and walks over to me.

Long story short, I've become his concubine. I hate it. Every time he leaves at night…I have to cry quietly to myself, remind myself…it's better this way. In my head, in my dreams, Charon tells me it's okay. His voice penetrates my mind, as much as I hate it, and he comforts me. I wake up crying. I wake up on a soggy pillow. I haven't smiled willfully…in I can't remember how long. I feel so broken, inside. Broken, because I don't feel anything anymore. I just go through my motions, trancelike.

Desmond is nice, during the day. It's night that he turns into something else. I have bruises, from him. My thighs are black and blue under my dress. Sometimes, it hurts to walk, but I have to listen to whatever he says. I can't run anywhere. My Pip-Boy map…doesn't show of any place where I can go and be safe. I refuse to return to the Capital Wasteland, so I guess part of this is my fault. The only comfort I have, that Desmond doesn't know about, is my thoughts. My memoires. I return to them at night when he leaves, and I'm left sore and sometimes bleeding.

I make up things in my head. I make up stories. In my head, Charon is there, and we're happy together. We're happy, free, far from any recognizable place. I get lost in my head most nights, and I don't want to wake up. When the sun shines, I hate it. I hate it because it wakes me. It reminds me of a new day, another day. I hate it here, I'm beginning to hate myself, too.

Charon hasn't come. The first night, I thought he would. But…it's been almost two weeks, and I've given up hope. He let me go, again. He didn't chase me or even try. He just left me here, alone, miserable. Even though I'm so angry at him, it makes my blood boil…I hope he's happy. I hope whatever he's doing, he's happy, because one of us has to be. If I can't be…he has to be.

"Dez!"

I hear Desmond calling me from inside the house. It's bright and sunny today, a pretty day. I took advantage of it, and came outside, to Desmond's small lawn area. I'm sitting in the sun, just sitting. I try not to walk around much.

"Out here!"

I call, forcing cheeriness. Looking behind me, I see Desmond come out through the back door. He took my guns from me when I arrived. Ladies, he says, don't carry guns.

"I've been looking all over for you."

I sigh. I hate him. But I have nothing else. Someday, I tell myself, I'll figure out a plan, and it'll be all alright.

"I've been out here."

"I can see that, now. What do you want for lunch?"

During the day, Desmond takes care of me. He cooks, with his two dogs, Freki and Geri. He calls them his 'pups'. Sometimes Desmond can be charming, but the night always reminds me of who he really is.

"Whatever you want to cook, I have no preference."

"You never do. Tell me how your day is going."

He sits beside me, and I put down the book I've been holding, but not reading. My thoughts, as usual, have been plotting and thinking of Charon, of a way out, of anything but where I'm at now.

"Alright. I've been lounging, nothing to report. And you?"

Desmond likes conversation. I find the better I am during the day, the less he hurts me at night.

"Same, same. Spent most of this morning looking for you. Now that I've found you, I can't remember what the fuck it was I meant to ask."

He swears…a lot.

"Oh, that's a shame."

I'm not allowed to swear.

"Ah, now I fucking remember. Right. I've been meaning to ask if you'd consider…coming with me to the mainland."

Mainland? Home. Capital Wasteland. My body itches at the thought of it.

"Why would you want to go there?"

Desmond shrugs and stands. He's peculiar.

"I have business. But I'll speak with you about it more tonight."

Tonight. Right. I nod, and he leaves me alone. I sit in the sun, my attention instantly reverting into my mind, into my thoughts, where I can't see or hear anything. Only what I want to see, what I want to hear. It's never anything good, unless I make it up. Being sad with no one to talk to about it, really takes a toll on you. I'm always tired, always. Desmond doesn't let me sleep long. He comes really late at night, and leaves before dawn. He refuses to sleep with me, spend the night, and I'm glad for that. If he did…I'd never have time to cry.

Somehow…I went from being Dez, vigilante of the Capital Wasteland, to Dez, concubine. I went from free and violent, to subservient and passive. Of course, I'm not really passive, just outwardly. Inwardly, I'm waiting for the perfect moment to kill him, to sneak up and end his fucking life. But he sleeps with a Scoped .44 Magnum by his bed, and that's one hell of a gun. I…have no weapons.

Staring up at the cloudy blue sky, I fan myself. It's humid here, I always sweat. Desmond requests I bathe daily, and I wouldn't object to that usually, but he watches me. Watching, observing, as if I'm some sort of caged animal. He sees the bruises he leaves, the harsh blue, black and sometimes green stains. I swear he's proud of it. He doesn't know it, but the Dez I used to be is boiling up inside. She's been itching to come out, to fight him, to tear him limb from limb. But…I've kept her quiet. I've kept her…silent. Because I don't know this place.

From what I've seen here, though, the inhabitants are strong. Stronger than anything I've encountered in the Capital Wasteland, save for a Super Mutant Behemoth. If I kill Desmond, the creatures will invade. Most of them see him as a monster, an abomination, their rituals and culture tell them to stay away. As long as he's alive, I'm safe from the outside world. But as long as he's alive, I'm in danger every night.

I suppose the one precious thing I have here, is the piano. Desmond has one, in one of the rooms upstairs. It's beautiful, well-tuned, and I play it every chance I feel inspired. Sometimes he sits, listening to me play slow, sad melodic tunes. He's never asked me to play anything other than what I do, and I'm kind of thankful for that. It's the one thing I do to express myself. I made a song, once, a few days ago. I call it 'Charon'. Mostly, it's played on the lower, high-pitched keys. It dances and swirls, sad and lifting at the same time. I fell in love with it, just like I fell in love with him.

My hands are familiar with it, now. I play it all the time, as often as I can. It speeds up in the middle, keeping tempo and pace through the rest. It slows down, though, at the end. Showing there's a sad undertone, one that words can't really express. It gets soft, sad, lonely. I nearly cry at that part, but I hold back tears, I try not to.

Once…just once, I played that song. The song I once played with Charon. In my head, the words swam around, tears fell down my face. Desmond didn't watch me play that day, and I was so happy for that. I wanted my time, my alone, to breathe. I played it, as I hummed the song. It reminded me so much of us, of Charon and I. It reminded me of our fights, our laughter, our…everything. I cried quietly, while I played. Cried, and didn't let up. Love is not a victory march, you know. It's a cold, and it's a broken hallelujah. I understand that now. I understand the song. About letting someone go, although you don't want to. I can relate to it now, and it hurts me, how I can relate.

I try not to play that piece. I don't want to. There's too many memories attached to it. Too much pain, hurt, and soft emotions. At night, I try to envision Charon, but my mind won't let me anymore. My mind is smart, it tells me to forget him, move on, and focus on myself. I try, but it's hard. I just get angry at myself, and open my eyes, only to see Desmond's disgusting face above me, looming and leering. He's repulsive. I feel like tearing off my skin, after each night. I hate him, I hate him so much.

I did find out a bit about myself in my time here, though. Desmond has a bunch of pre-war books. Shelves and shelves of them. I get lost in some of them, sometimes. I found one, about names. My name, Dezbe, wasn't there. But…a variant was. Des, pronounced 'Dez' is a short form of Desmond. Means 'from south of Munster'. It's a place in Ireland, I suppose. It struck me, how similar our names are. When I pointed that out, Desmond said something about 'fate' and walked away. I always hoped my name was…well not sure. I'm not even sure my mother and father knew about the name 'Desmond' before they named me, I hope not. It means something stupid. I want to be just Dezbe, with a D-e-z.

That sounds stupid, I know, but I have to entertain myself. I have to…keep my mind off of things. Off of Desmond, of the pain, of the emotions that can't seem to cease. Sometimes I wish I was numb. Then…then I wouldn't feel anything at all. I'd be free of everything, really. I'd probably wander into my death if I was numb, though, so that's probably not good. As sick and twisted as it sounds…I'd rather live like this than be dead. Want to know why? Because at least when you're alive you can hope. You can't hope, when you're dead.

I know it sounds pointless, but…I hope. I hope one day I wake up and have the courage to run. Desmond won't chase me, but running away with no weapons, no money, and unsure if Tobar will be there is horrific. Especially in this stupid dress. It's like I'm a giant, pink sign that says 'Eat Me!'. Sometimes I hope Charon comes and saves me, like in some of the stories I read. There's a damsel in distress, and the knight saves her. But…Charon is anything but a knight, and I'm anything but a damsel. I'm more like the fire-breathing hell dragon that guards the damsel. Except, I can't be, because Desmond has me on a tight leash. I'm sure if I _really_ wanted to, I could get away, kill him. But like I mentioned before, if he's dead, I'm screwed. I need him alive until I can figure out a way to fix everything, to get out of here. I know once he's dead, the people will be on this place faster than yeast grows on bread.

I can hear them sometimes, whispering in the bushes, moving in the distance. At first it made me nervous, but then I realized Desmond keeps them away. I'm not sure how, he explained it to me but I didn't pay attention. They follow an old religion, I guess. It means, basically, he is bad and cursed and they need to stay away. I suppose it could be like that with any ghoul, but Desmond seems to be the only one out here. I don't want to take my chances, either. I'd rather take his…sexual exploits than risk my life out there, alone. If it were anywhere else, though, I'd have killed him by now. He'd be dead, burning in hell, where he belongs. The fucking prick.

I think of Gob, sometimes, too. I think of how he is, how Zack is. I talk like it's been forever, when it hasn't been at all. But I figure he guessed the worse, when Charon arrived home alone. I'm sure Charon thinks I'm dead, too. Probably. Poor Gob. I wish he was here with me. He could cheer me up, make me laugh. Maybe if he walked with me, it wouldn't hurt so bad, to walk I mean. Whenever I stand it's like knives slicing open my muscles. Someday, someday…it'll be alright. I'll get out of here, and go back to the Capital Wasteland. Lord knows I won't stay there, but I'll figure something out. I never thought I'd say this, but hell, the Capital Wasteland seems like the safest place in the world, at this point.

Struggling, I stand. My legs buckle beneath my weight, but I learnt fast if I show pain from the nights, Desmond is rougher. I think he gets off on hurting me, I swear. He enjoys seeing me struggle, seeing me hurt. Sometimes I forget, and I fall down and he laughs, while he helps me up. Then the night comes, and he hurts me worse than ever. Each night is always worse than the one before. I've adapted a form of 'blacking out', though. I close my eyes, and when I open them, if it's not too soon, it's all over. All I'm left with is the sound of my bedroom door closing, the oozing of blood and bodily fluids, and the sweet, sweet relief of being alone. I have to change my sheets a lot, though. Every morning…they're stained with blood…with his sterile white sperm. It's disgusting. I hate the mornings. I hate them.


	17. Don't Wish That Way

I sit up in my bed. The old mansion groans and creaks, but I've gotten used to it. I'm able to distinguish now, which noise is which. I can hear Desmond walking, hear him over the groans of the house, of the rotted wood. He says it's safe here, but the wood shows otherwise. Once I stepped on a floor, in another room, and it caved in. I'm careful now, where I step, where I stand. Now, as the bright moonlight creeps in through the old, torn curtains in the window, I can hear him, treading towards my room. I shudder, bracing myself.

My bedroom door groans, as it opens. I glance over to see Desmond, he stands in my room, closing the door behind him, his eyes focused on me. He's wearing silk pajamas, and I'm in a nightgown. I always am. He never lets me wear underwear.

"Hello, dearest."

Charon never called me a pet name. I cringe, hearing the word come from his mouth. I never liked it. It makes me feel sick inside.

"Hello."

I reply, trying to sound sweet, as if I'm eager for the night. If I don't at least try, the pain is worse. Desmond creeps, his figure scary in the moonlight. His hair, which I'm still not sure if it's real, is slicked back as always. He has a mustache, but I'm not sure if that's real, either. I think of strange things, when he comes to me. I think of anything, to keep my mind off of what's really going on.

He climbs in bed, my bed, his hot breath smelling foul. He grips and grabs at my chest, like he hasn't felt it night after night. I close my eyes, trying to…forget and take myself somewhere else. I always do. His hands force me down, and I don't resist. Resisting means pain, and I try to avoid that, obviously. It takes a bit, for him to get to the act, to get it over with. He likes to feel and touch, and during that, I dream. I take myself far away. I hear Charon's voice in my head, telling me it's okay. Over and over, as Desmond gropes and grabs at my body, Charon says it's okay. I try to believe him. I try, so hard.

I feel Desmond part my legs, and the pain tries to bring me back to reality, but I refuse. I keep my eyes closed tight, and envision Charon. We're somewhere warm and nice and green and happy. We're not here, I'm not here. I tell him sweet nothings, and he tells me it's all okay. He tells me that…he'll stay. He says he'll never leave. He's mine forever, and I nearly tear up at the image of it. I want to hear it so bad, but I know when I open my eyes, I never will.

Pain shoots up from my thighs. I try to push it away, push it back. A noise jolts Desmond, I feel him jump, inches away from my intimate parts.

"What the fuck?"

He exclaims, and I hear the sound again. Loud, pulsating bangs. They echo through the dark house. I open my eyes, staring at my bedroom door. I feel Desmond between my thighs, but he's not inside me, and I'm so grateful for that.

"What is it?"

I ask, acting as if I was enjoying his acts. The bangs happen again, louder, more pronounced. I almost gasp, when I feel Desmond's sharp nails digging deep into my skin, slicing the flesh, the bruises. He gets off of the bed, fixing himself. The bangs don't let up and with each moment passed they get more eager, more violent, louder.

"Wait here."

He doesn't have to tell me twice. The second my bedroom door closes, I cringe, clenching my eyes closed. I feel blood trickling down, down my thighs, down towards my bare ass. It stings, and I tear the covers from myself.

"What the hell?"

I hear Desmond say from the foyer. Voices, I hear voices. Not just his, not just two, but three. Friends? His friends? Maybe. Maybe someone came and I can leave with them. I can leave here, and go home. Home, to where I'm safe. Home, to where Gob is. Gob will take care of me, until I'm better. I know he will.

Ignoring the pain, I stand, and hobble to my bedroom door. Luckily, it's not far from the stairs, and I can open it just enough to hear everything. I do. I open it, and poke my head out.  
"Stop playing games, Des."

The voice trails up, and my brain goes into overdrive. It sounds…it…Roy. Roy Phillips, it's him. It has to be. No one else I know has that voice. Then again, it could be one of Desmond's friends, who just sounds like Roy.

"I told you cocksuckers I don't know what the fuck you talkin' about."

"Yeah well this source of ours tells us otherwise."

Not Desmond's friend, no. Slowly, I limp and gimp to the top of the stairs. I can't see much, only Desmond's feet. I grip the rail, and take myself down step by step, two foot on one step, careful, blood trailing down to my ankles.

"That source is a fuckin' liar!"

"Desmond, do you really want to do this? You can let us in, and live, or you can die, and we come in anyways."

"You step into my fucking house and I got traps set up that will kill you before you can aim a gun!"

Desmond thinks he has traps, but I'm smart. I take them apart. Half of me wants the people to invade this place. At least then, I have a fighting chance. I make it midway down the stairs, and I have to stop. I can see clearly, but Desmond blocks the view. I can only see his back, and a figure. I hope it's Roy, but what the hell would he be doing here? Do all ghouls know one another?

"Be realistic here, Desmond. You either let us in, or we _force_ our way in. Already killed some Tribals on our way up, do you really want to test us?"

I sit down, I have to. My legs hurt, bleeding, I can't stand.

"Desmond? Who is it?"

I call in my sweetest, nicest voice. Although when I hear it, I sound weak, tired. I am. My thighs feel like they went through the jaw of a Deathclaw. I see Desmond turn to me, a look of shock on his face. He's angry, and later, I'm going to pay for this.

"I told you to wait upstairs!"

He hisses, and I cringe. I only cringe because of what I expect him to do to me later.

"Oh ho, what's this? You little fuckin' liar!"

The figure shoves Desmond out of the way, and enters into my view. I nearly laugh, tears forming, when I see who it is. Roy. I've never been so fucking happy to see someone in my entire life.

"Roy!"

I yell, reaching out to him, a stupid, dopey smile on my face. Roy doesn't come near me, but instead turns towards Desmond.

"Prick."

He mutters, his leather armor never looked so good. I open and close my hands, trying to motion for him to help me, but he doesn't even look at me.

"Hey! Hey in here jackass!"

He calls out the door, and I look. Desmond starts to freak out, taking my attention.

"Goddamnit you cocksuckers get out of here!"

"Shut up!"

I yell, finally feeling free. Desmond looks, pointing a threatening finger at me.

"You…you shut up!"

By instinct, I do. I clamp my hands over my mouth, and look back towards the door. A large figure comes into view, stepping into the light of the foyer. Beneath my hands, I smile. Tears roll down my face, and I smile. I smile, so much my cheeks hurt, cancelling out the pain in my thighs.

"Dez…"

Charon says as he walks in, and our eyes meet. He came back. He came back for me, he did, he's right there. Look, everyone, he came back.

"I told you _fucks to get out_!"

Desmond screams, and both Roy and Charon stare at him. They look like twins in their matching armor. Charon's hands open and close, but Roy's the first to react. Without hesitation, he punches Desmond in the face, knocking him to the floor, bleeding and sputtering. I laugh, loudly, and reach up to grip the banister. Standing, I see Charon, he's looking at me.

"Charon…"

I say, smiling. Nothing else matters. Nothing else in the world. Nothing. I struggle to take a step down, to move. He sees this, while Roy is busy disarming Desmond. I know I'm okay now. Not because Desmond is getting what he deserves, not because Charon and Roy are here, but because I'm _free_. Before I can take another step down, Charon rushes over to me. He picks me up, embracing me, his hands tangling in my hair like he hasn't seen me in years. Like the time he first saw me at Tenpenny Tower.

"Dez…Dez you're alive…you're alive…"

He mutters, over and over. I wrap my arms around his shoulders, clinging to him.

"Charon…"

He parts from me a bit, running his hands over the healing slices on my face. In his eyes, I see sadness.

"Des I am sorry. I am so sorry for leaving you. I didn't want to, please believe me, I am sorry."

I shake my head at him, still smiling, tears still coming.

"You came back."

It's all that needs to be said. He hugs me once more, his breathing heavy, sighing. I cry on his shoulder, a mixture of happy tears and sad ones. His leather smells like him, the skin on his neck brushes against my lips and it takes everything I have not to kiss him. I feel him setting me back down, I feel myself slipping away from him, but it's okay, because he's back. My feet touch the ruined carpet, and I flinch. Charon notices, and steps down on the stair below him.

"Dez…what's wrong?"

My smile vanishes. Shamefully, I look down at my feet, where blood started to dry. I take the sides of my nightgown in my hands, and lift it slightly.

"I…got hurt…"

I whisper, not looking at him. I see his feet shift, his hands on either side of my waist.

"Jesus…"

He mutters, stepping back. I drop the sides of my nightgown, and look up at him. His hands are still resting on my waist, but his head is turned towards Roy.

"Can you hold him down for the night? I have…things I must do."

"Yeah, sure thing jackass. You want me to off him?"

"No. No keep him alive. I'll deal with him in the morning."

"Suit yourself."

Charon turns back to me, I look into his eyes. When he stands a step below me, we're the same height.

"Come."

I have no time to protest. He picks me up like he would pick up Zack. He lifts me by my bottom, pressing my body against his. Effortlessly, he climbs up the stairs, as if I weight nothing.

"You're strong."

"You're light."

I smile. Even with the pain, I'm starting to feel like Dez. I'm starting to remember who I am again, but Charon…his anger radiates for miles. I can feel it seeping off of him, as I point him in the direction to my room. In this faded pink nightgown, I feel like a kid in his powerful arms. He's careful with me, as he opens my door, and turns on the light.

"I can walk, you know."

Charon shakes his head, bringing me over to the bed. He tosses the top blanket down, and I feel his hands grip my thighs in anger. I yelp, in pain.

"Ow!"

Instantly he lets go, his grip loosening. He sits me down, beside the small stain of blood, and kneels in front of me.

"Dez…is there…medicine?"

I nod, and point to the first aid kit on the wall. Charon gets up and empties its contents. Walking back over, he places them on the bed beside me.

"This is my fault…"

He says under his breath, not meant for me to hear, but I hear.

"What is?"

Our eyes meet, and he shakes his head. I grip my nightgown, and flinch when he touches my knee. Not that I don't want him to, but because for almost two weeks any touch has equaled pain. I shake my head at him, looking at the floor.

"I'm…sorry."

"Don't be, Dez. Do you…want to do this on your own?"

"Desmond never let me do it. I tried when it first bled. He just hurt me more."

Charon growls, animalistic. It scares me, but then I remember it's him, and he won't hurt me, I hope.

"Do you want to do this on your own?"

He asks again, staring at the blood on the sheets. It's not a big stain, maybe the size of a small pile of caps, but it's there. I shake my head at him, feeling so degraded.

"I…"

He waves his hand at me, and I stop talking. He motions for me to lie down, and looks away when I do. He's nervous, I can tell. Slowly, my head rests on the pillows, they've never felt so comfortable.

"You…have to lift…your nightgown."

Charon struggles to speak, but I know. Closing my eyes and pushing back tears, I pull my nightgown up. I prop up my thighs, and open my legs. I shake, as I wait for Charon's reaction.

"…Shit…"

It's all he can say, and I try my best to stifle a sob. It doesn't work, and it slithers out between my lips. Almost instantly, I feel Charon's hand smoothing over my hair, comforting me.

"It's okay. It's okay…"

He whispers, just like in my dreams, in my images. I open my watery eyes, and stare at him as he kneels beside me on the floor. He hand strokes my hairline, and I bite my lip. Tears pool up and slide down my face, and he shakes his head. Leaning forward, he kisses my forehead as he stands.

"I'm sorry."

I hear him rummaging through the medical supplies. When his hand touches my calf, I flinch, and watch as he shakes his head, staring at my wounds.

"This…is horrific."

"I know."

"Why would you let him do this? Dez this isn't you…"

Charon begins to clean, I can feel it, the cuts and bruises with a wet cloth. I hear it fizzing, and figure it's some kind of antiseptic.

"I…had no other choice. It's safe here, the people are scared of ghouls. If he died, they'd come. He took my guns. If I ran, I'd die."

If Charon could blush, he would be. I can tell, and it almost makes me laugh, almost. He gently cleans my thighs, my private, everything. I can't look, so I look at the wall next to me. The coolness of the cloth is comforting, but I still feel so dirty.

"This is my fault. I shouldn't have left."

"I ran."

"I could have found you. I knew where you went. I figured it out."

"…It's okay. You're here now, aren't you?"

I glance over, and see him shake his head.

"I could have spared you this."

"It was only at night, when he'd do it. During the day he was nice, I guess."

"No excuse."

Charon takes his hand away, and discards the cloth on the floor. He takes something in a bag, and tears it open with his teeth. It's gauze. I watch him, as he picks up a tube of white cream, and smoothes it on his hands.

"If this hurts, tell me."

I nod, and brace myself. The cream makes his hands cold, but I bear it. A slight sting, when his hands run over an open cut, but other than that it's just uncomfortable, awkward.

"I have…to touch…is that okay?"

"…Yeah."

Gently, Charon touches. If I wasn't so damn sore and bloody, I'd think it was a turn on. Circumstances, are different, though.

"I can't…wrap that but the cream will help."

He tells me, picking up the gauze and gently wrapping my thighs. I don't make a move or sound. I lay, with my eyes focused on the wall. I wait for him to finish, to smooth his hands over the gauze, and wait, for him to dump the medical supplies on the floor. When I hear them falling, I pull down my nightgown, and pull the blanket over me. Not because I don't want him to see, but because…it's dirty. Charon stands, and steps away. Awkward silence befalls, and I can't look at him as I sit up.

"Will you come home?"

He asks, and I look up at him. He stares at the ground, his arms away from him, crossed in front of his chest.

"Yeah…yeah I will."

"Gob…is worried. He…has been asking of you."

I grip the blanket in my hands, tight, my knuckles turn white.

"I miss him."

"I know, you do. I…have also been thinking of you."

I gently move over on the bed, and motion for Charon to sit next to me. He hesitates, and shakes his head. I watch him, nearing tears again, as he walks over to my door. I'm relieved, though, when all he does is turn the lights off. I hear him in the dark, see him by moonlight, walking back over. I hear the straps of his armor coming undone, I'm not scared. I've been scared since I got here, since Desmond started doing this. Even without Roy's howling voice, his laughter echoing up in the darkness telling me he's still got Desmond in the fetal position, I wouldn't be scared. Because Charon is here. Because now…I don't have to worry.

In the morning, when the sun rises, I can find my things. I can walk around, searching for my armor, my guns. No one will come and take the house over beforehand, and if they do, Charon and Roy can handle it. They're strong together, although I've never really witnessed them fight side-by-side. I trust Roy, he's never hurt me. Intimidated me, maybe, but never hurt. He wouldn't let anything happen to me, for the sake of Charon. No one will come, because they're ghouls, and the things here don't like non-feral ghouls. I'm safe, I realize, no matter how I choose to look at it.

Looking up, Charon stands awkwardly beside my bed. He hesitates, breathing in the darkness, before sliding in beside me. His body is stiff, his back propped up against the headboard. I look at him, folding my hands in my lap. There's just slivers of moonlight creeping in, from across the room, on the far wall. They stream across the bed, stopping halfway, shrouding us in darkness. I fumble with my fingers, staring at them, unsure of what to say or do, exactly.

"…I came to get you, you know."

He says softly, almost like he's ashamed. I look up at him, smiling. I haven't smiled this much in…a long time. I don't care how much my legs hurt, how embarrassed I am, how dirty I feel, I just want to smile. I want to smile at him, because if I've learnt anything…it's you never really know anything. I could wakeup, find this is a dream, or find both Charon and Roy gone. I want to…appreciate it while I'm here, while they're here. In the distance, I can hear the waves crashing against the cliffs. I've never heard it before, and how peaceful it is. Probably because I never bothered to.

"When I see you smile…I try not to cry now…"

Charon chokes out, looking from me. My smile fades for a minute, but it comes back. Not a broad smile you give when someone surprises you, but one you give when…when something pretty good happens. A relieved smile, a comforting one…one that says 'it's okay'.

"Why?"

I ask, my voice quiet, soft, but not weak. Charon shrugs, I've never seen him cry. I've seen the moistness on his face, but never, have I seen tears fall.

"Are you smiling because you're safe, or because you know you're going home?"

"…Both…because you're here, and it's you. It is you, right? I'm not dreaming?"

"You're not dreaming."

"Just making sure."

I don't trust my mind. I've heard some scary things happen when someone finds themselves in difficult situations. Their minds do things to them, to ease whatever it is they're going to. I wouldn't put it past my mind to do this, to ease the pain my body feels.

"No, no it's not a dream."

"Will you stay with me this time? Will you?"

I ask, like a small child. But you know I feel like a small child. I feel like the angry, sad, nineteen-year-old I was so long ago, six years ago, really.

"For tonight."

It's not what I was asking, but it'll do. I'd rather not know, anyways. For tonight, I have him. Ruining it by asking too much is a bad idea.

"Okay."

I say, nodding my head and looking down at my hands. We sit side-by-side, in awkward silence, as if we're two strangers. I don't say anything, because I want him to say something. I bite my lip, and feel him shuffling beside me. I hear the click of a lighter, and my neck snaps towards him. It's been so _long_ since I've had a cigarette. Charon seems to sense this, and hands me the one in his hand. He lights another one for himself, and I suck on mine. Desmond took my smokes, saying it wasn't 'ladylike'. Fuck 'ladylike' how's that? Fuck that shit to hell. There we go. There's the Dez I know and love.

"…This is awkward."

Charon states, and I smile a bit, smoking.

"Yeah, I feel the same on that one."

"Not that I don't enjoy this but I mean given the circumstances it is. I don't…know what it is I'm allowed, or supposed, to do."

I shrug, running my fingers through my hair. Forever ago, he'd do that to me until I fell asleep. I wish he would now, I miss it.

"…Yeah me neither. I guess…nothing, really. I don't know."

"I would have no problem…comforting you but…Lily. She was not pleased with me returning."

"But you came anyways."

He nods, looking away from me, smoking and nodding.

"Yes. I did."

"Why?"

Charon sighs, smoke filtering out of his mouth. He shakes his head, looking down at his lap.

"Because I couldn't live with myself, knowing I could have helped, but didn't. It wasn't like before, where you left with a level head. This time…was different. You were sad, I was worried."

"I'm glad you came."

"Seeing the situation, I am as well."

"What did Lily say, exactly?"

Charon looks at me, and I shrug. Taking a drag of my cigarette, I try to blow smoke rings into the air. The things I do, to entertain myself when things get stiff and awkward.

"…She told me to leave you here. That if I left she wouldn't stay. I called her bluff and gathered Roy and came anyways. I tried to explain to her that…you could be in trouble. Lily saw it as you trying to gain attention from me. That there was no danger. I see now, there was. I am glad, I came."

"I'm sorry I caused so much trouble. Maybe it would have been better if I…stayed in New Vegas. I wonder that, sometimes at night. If things would have been better off."

Charon looks at me. I realize, no matter how dark it is, I can always see his eyes. It's like they glow in the dark, the white film that covers them comforting.

"No. Perhaps things…wouldn't have ended up like this but…I can sleep easier knowing you are alive. Knowing you can take care of yourself. At least, back home."

I nod, but I don't feel better. His words seem stale, forced. I think it would have been better if I stayed away. Then, I wouldn't have to say goodbye again. A clap of thunder makes me jump, and soon rain patters outside. So much for a sunrise. It doesn't bother me, though, as I look past Charon and at the reflection of the rain hitting the window. With my free hand, I reach over and grab his. I intertwine our fingers, and squeeze gently. He looks at me, and takes my almost-finished cigarette. I watch carefully, as he pokes both his and mine out on the nightstand, turning back to me. I smile at him, and he shakes his head.

"I have missed your smile, Dez."

I don't say anything back. I just smile sweetly at him, holding his hand in my lap. He's warm, the leather fingerless gloves coarse against my palm. In the dim light of the clouded moon, I see his cheeks gleam. He looks away from me, but I've seen it. Reaching up with my hand, I touch his cheek, wet.

"Why are you crying? You've never cried before. You're stronger than that."

Charon sighs.

"I should be. There are times, however, where I cannot help it. It is something I am not proud of."

I stroke his cheek with the tips of my fingers. He turns his head to me, closing his eyes and resting in my hand.

"Don't cry. One of us has to be…strong."

"I know."

I let his hand go, and painfully I tuck my knees underneath me. Rising up on them, I ignore the hurt, as I cradle his head in my chest. He's comforted me so many times in the past, stayed up with me so many nights…it's the least I can do for him. I owe him, for saving my life so many times. For being there when I was at my lowest of lows, for…being him.

Gently, I stroke his head, just as he had done to me years ago. He leans into me, his head resting on my bruised chest. I feel the front of my nightgown begin to wet, but I don't mind. I smile down at him, smoothing over the thin strands of hair he has left. His skin is smooth, his muscles, smooth, as if there's no difference. Most ghouls are flaky, with peeling skin, but Charon isn't. He's just soft. I think so, anyways.

"I can be the sad one, but you have to be the big one."

I tell him, feeling his arms slowly wind around my waist. He squeezes me gently, holding me, supporting himself. I smooth my hands over the back of his neck, being careful, being gentle. Charon's never been this way before, I've never seen him so vulnerable. A part of me finds it downright adorable, but another part of me hates it. It breaks my heart, knowing that I did this. Charon's supposed to be strong, brave, always the comforter never the comforted. I guess everyone's allowed one free pass, though.

I feel him pulling, rising. Gently, he leans into me, forcing me to lie back down on the pillows, forcing my body to unbend itself. He's over me, his legs beside mine, his hands on either side of mine. He supports himself on his palms, and I look up at him, still rubbing his cheek.

"I thought about you…a lot. While I've been here."

I tell him, as he stares at me. His stare isn't cold, it isn't intimidating, it's just soft. I need soft right now.

"What would you think about?"

"…About you, just you. You'd come into my head…you'd tell me things would be okay, really. It was always the same image, sometimes you'd say nice things, to get me through the day. It wasn't real, but it always made me feel a bit better."

Charon sighs, not a heavy one, but kind of like a soft one, I guess. I place both my hands on his cheeks, and smile up at him.

"Did it help?"

He asks, and I nod.

"Yeah, it did."

If this is a dream, I don't want to wake up. I don't want this night to end, the sun to rise, or to fall asleep. Everything else aside, I feel perfect. I'm safe now, I'm coming back into myself, and I'll be going home tomorrow. What happens tomorrow is still to be decided, still to be…debated but for now…for now everything is just alright. My heart races in my chest, beats faster than it has in forever, and I don't try to hide it.

"I hope you believe me, when I say I have missed you, and have worried about you."

I do believe him. I nod, and move my hands around his neck. My arms stretch over his shoulders, I could pull him down if I wanted to, knock him off balance. But I don't. It could make him pull away, make him think of Lily. I don't want that. I don't want him to think of anyone or anything else but me, just me. Only me.

"Yeah, I do."

I say, giving him a small, sad smile. I remember how he told me he didn't love me, but I push it away. I don't want to think of that now. Right now, this moment is happening, not that moment. That's in the past.

"You've always been the voice in the back of my head, you know. Even when I left, you were always there, reasoning with me and keeping me grounded. Even…when I didn't hear it, you were there."

I tell him softly. Charon looks at me, his eyes trailing over my face, over the slices. I watch, as his eyes go down to my collarbone, to the cuts there. His eyes come back up, and he closes them. I close mine, too, like I know I'm supposed to. I feel him bend down, my arms being able to wrap around him better. He kisses me, really soft, like he's scared he'll break me. He supports his own weight, like he'll break me if he presses down. I hear the silence, his breathing, his breath on mine. It's peaceful now, in Point Lookout, like everything stopped just for me.

Charon pulls away, but not very far. Our lips still graze, as he opens his mouth to speak.

"I am not doing this on impulse, Dez."

I know he isn't. It's different now. Comforting. Lifting my hand, I stroke his cheek gently, soaking it all up.

"Then why are you doing it?"

Charon's cheeks are still wet, and it kind of makes me sad. I want to tell him it's okay, just like he told me.

"Because I want to."

I smile sadly, even though I don't think he notices. I feel him rub his cheek against mine, like he's nuzzling it almost.

"I want to, too."

Charon kisses my cheek, my nose, my forehead and all over my face before he pulls away, kissing my lips once more. He lays next to me, and I roll on my side, looking at him. Tucking my hands under my head, I smile, and Charon runs his fingers through my hair.

"What about Lily?"

I ask, a bit worried about the response he might give me.

"Let's not talk about that."

"Please tell me you'll stay, then?"

Charon sighs, watching the movement of his hand. I feel his fingers lightly tugging at the strands of hair, and feel them as they fall back down when he reaches the ends.

"I will try."

That's okay with me. I don't mind. I don't mind at all, so long as he's mine. So long as we can have nights like this, where I can at least pretend everything is simple. Lightning lights up the room like day, and for a minute I see his face.

"I'll follow you, you know."

I tell him, closing my eyes.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah…until you love me."

Charon chuckles a bit, and stops stroking my hair. He rests his hand on my upper arm, rubbing it with his thumb.

"You know, Dez…we may not be able to go back to what things once were…"

"Yeah, I figured."

I have to be realistic. Even in times like this, where all I want is to keep in this moment forever, I have to be real. Charon has Lily, and Mackenzie, and you know…I know he won't leave them. If I have to be the other woman, though, then so be it. As long as he comes to me at night, and holds me really close, I think I can deal with that. Maybe not for a long time, but long enough for me to figure out a plan.

"Once we get home…I cannot…"

"Yeah, I know, Charon."

Our tumultuous relationship will have to be kept in secret. In dark corners of Tenpenny Tower, or in secluded rooms, hidden by nightfall. I sigh heavily, my eyes still closed.

"I won't wait forever, though."

I tell him, giving him fair warning. I know I can only be the other woman for so long. Eventually, he's going to have to choose. Hopefully by then, his choice will be me, and Lily can pack her bags and go. Maybe Charon will come to New Vegas with me. We can live in the hustle and bustle of the city, and be big-shot gamblers. We'll win all the caps, and live like we own the whole city. The people there will look at me in envy, with my loaded sawed-off shotgun and Charon on my arm. They'll say 'Oh look at that pretty woman...' and I'll smile and walk away. We can drink Whiskey and smoke cigarettes, sit in radiation and laugh at things that aren't funny.

"I don't expect you to."

He says, before kissing my forehead. I smile at this, my heart beating normally for the first time all night. I know with him, I'm safe. I've always known that. Ever since we first met, and I was so angry in my Raider Badlands armor, I knew I was safe. Saving me…was always Charon's main priority. The only difference being, I went from a job to an emotional attachment. I don't mind that, though. I don't mind anything, as long as he can stick it out with me.

He rubs my arm still, as if to tell me he's still there. I don't need him to touch me, I can just tell.

"Charon?"

"Hm?"

"You'll be here when I wake up, right?"

"That's something I should ask you."

I smile, shifting a bit under the covers. The rain softens, letting up on the window. I sigh, and rub my head into my arms. Charon takes his hand away, but I don't open my eyes. I stay quiet, listening, breathing. If my life ever has a 'perfect' moment, I'd deem it this.


	18. Will You Forget Me?

A loud crash lifts me from sleep. I have no idea how long I've been sleeping for, but it's not morning. Night still floods my room as I sit up, setting off pain in my thighs. Looking around, I'm still in my room at Calvert Mansion, and I sigh. Another loud crashing sound echoes though the home, and I reach down to shake Charon. He's still there, and some of my nerves are relaxed.

"Charon…Charon…"

I whisper hastily, shaking him gently. He groans, but opens his eyes.

"Lily go back to bed."

I narrow my eyes at him and purse my lips. Digging my nails into his arm, I frown, another noise, closer this time.

"I'm going to ignore that for now, _wake up_."

I hiss, shaking him with both hands. Charon opens his eyes, and sighs.

"What is it?"

"Noise."

No sooner did I say it, was there another one, much closer than before. Charon sits up, quick, instinctive. He reaches down beside the bed and grabs his shotgun as he swings his legs over the bed.

"Stay here."

He orders as he stands, not bothering to put on his armor. I hear hurried footsteps, and soon my door opens. Charon instantly has his shotgun aimed, as the lights turn on. I shield my eyes with my arm, but Charon doesn't. He stands, a bit blurry, with his shogun aimed.

"You bitch."

Desmond's voice reaches my ears like a knife. I shudder, blinking and seeing everything clearly. Charon takes slow steps forward, his faded black shirt stretching as he moves his fingers to the trigger.

"Put the gun down."

Charon growls, and I realize Desmond is aiming a Scoped .44 Magnum at him.

"It would be advisable for you to lower yours."

"Where's Roy?"

"It doesn't matter."

Charon cocks his shotgun without lowering it. I grip the blanket in my hands, worried.

"You will hand over the lady, and maybe I'll let you and your friend leave with your lives."

Charon growls at Desmond's proposition, stepping forward.

"No."

"It wouldn't be wise to pick a fucking fight with me."

"I should say the same to you."

Faster than fast, Charon turns his gun around and slams the butt end into Desmond's face. Desmond drops his gun, howling in pain. Without thinking, I jump up, ignoring the pain in my thighs, forcing my body forward. I grab the gun, and aim it up at Desmond as I steady myself, standing beside Charon.

"I'll kill you fuckers!"

Desmond howls, and I fire the Magnum. The kickback is worse than my own shotgun, and my arms fly up, but I keep a grip on the gun. Desmond yells, and falls to the ground. My shot got him in the arm, not very well-placed, but I wasn't aiming. He holds his bleeding arm, and I take a step back. Charon puts a protective arm in front of me, pushing me behind him.

"You're going to pay for that! The second you kill me these fucking Swampfolk will be in here! You have no chance!"

Desmond screams, but Charon doesn't want to hear it. He takes a glance at me, before squeezing the trigger, ending whatever life Desmond had before me, before this. Blood splatters on the walls, and I hold the Magnum in my shaking hands. The blast is heard throughout the house, and probably farther than that. Charon looks back at me, unscathed.

"Where's your things?"

He asks me, and I stare blankly at him, stunned.

"I…I don't know…his room maybe?"

"Where is that?"

"Across the hall."

Charon gives Desmond's lifeless body a kick. When there's no response, Charon nods, and heads out the door.

"You wait here."

There's no telling me twice. I lower myself to the ground, exhausted from the small amount of physical work I had done. Is it just me, or did Charon seem angrier than usual? Maybe Desmond bursting in put him in a bad mood, or something. I just hope he's not angry at me. The last thing I need is that. I watch him leave through my bedroom door, watch him walk down the hall, and into Desmond's room. Blinking slowly, I sigh, and glance down at Desmond's corpse.

Tears form in my eyes, but they're not going to fall. I already know what's going to happen next. I know, and it's okay. I know once we get back to the Capital Wasteland…it'll be different. Before I found Charon…I didn't have much of anything. I had a ball of anger, a ball of stress, and a lot of free time. There was no one to talk to when I was alone, no one to stare at the starry night skies, and laugh with me if I said something funny. There was just me. When I left, there was just me. I had no reason for anything, no cause, just the urge to go somewhere. It's going to be like that again, I can feel it, I know it.

Charon comes back with my clothes. He hands them to me, as he helps me up. I look at him for a second, a bit sad, but then I look away. It's pointless, to hope for something that can't ever happen again. Sliding off my nightgown, I turn my back to Charon, unfolding my clothes in front of me.

"Dez…"

He says, at the sight of the bruises that litter my back. I turn around, letting him see me naked. His eyes glance down to my breasts, and over the fingerprint bruises that surround them. My side has bite-marks, bruises, some red, some green and icky Slowly he reaches out, his fingertips grazing them slightly.

"I would…have come sooner if I knew…"

He says with a sadness in his voice. I shrug, not letting it bother me, but enjoying his touch.

"Nothing you could have done, anyways."

"I could have stopped this."

Shaking my head, I pull on my shirt, and his fingers pull away.

"Maybe, but it's stupid to keep blaming yourself for something you can't fix now. It's in the past, it's over."

"I suppose that's the past. Things that have ended."

"Yup. You can't ever bring it back, either, no matter how hard you try."

"All you really can do is wonder about the 'what if's' and try to visualize what would be, had you done something different."

We're not talking about the past. We're talking about us, about how we both know. I pull on my pants, nodding my head.

"Sometimes wondering is pointless, because there's nothing you can do to fix it."

I tell him, flinching from the soreness of my thighs. Turning to face him, I hold Desmond's gun in my hand. It's an upgrade from my sawed-off, so I guess I'll keep it.

"Yes. You're right. Come on let's find Roy."

I follow him out, and down the stairs. Roy isn't hard to find, he's knocked out on the floor in the foyer. Charon goes over, waking him, rousing him. They talk, Charon tells him what happened, and insists that we move quickly. Tobar might not be too thrilled about us arriving so late, but he'll take us out. After all, who would argue with the forces of Charon and Roy, accompanied by yours truly? Exactly. No one.

Once Roy is able to walk, we leave the mansion. There's nothing left there, although, I really wish I could have stayed. Hell if shit wasn't so dangerous here, I would have _loved_ to live alone in such a big home. It'd just be me, all the time, alone. I could read all the books, and play the piano anytime I wanted. I could dress myself up in pre-war clothes and dance with imaginary people. I know that sounds fun, and it probably is, but I also know I'd get bored fast with it. Going back to the Capital Wasteland is my best option. At least I know what to expect there, I know how to survive. It's where I'm most comfortable, and where I have all of my memories. Looking up at Charon's back as he leads the way, fumbling with the straps on his armor as he tries to slide it on, I feel a lump in the pit of my stomach. He'll never kiss me again, I don't think. He'll never be mine again, and that hurts more than anything Desmond could have done to me.


	19. Please Tell Me You'll Stay

(Charon)

Dez and Roy sleep silently in the cabin. The muffled noise of the engine soothes everything, calms it, as Tobar steers the boat towards home. I stand on the upper deck, smoking, looking out into the black waters. The stars are bright in the sky, as is the moon, but not bright enough to trick me into thinking it's day. Soon it'll be day, though, and soon, we will be home. In a few days, that is.

I shake my head, as I flick some ash from my cigarette. The guilt I feel…is immense. There's no other way to describe it, really. I can't even look at her without cringing now. The bruises that her clothes cover, the blood-soaked bandages I helped wrap around her thighs…because of me. Because of my foolishness and harsh words. She ran, if I hadn't said _anything_ she wouldn't have run. She wouldn't have gone into the clutches of Desmond. The fact that he even laid eyes on her naked body enrages me. Even if he didn't cause her so much pain, I would have killed him anyways.

I have to stop. I have to stop thinking she is mine. I must…not allow my old emotions to entangle themselves in my actions now. But seeing her…like that and then seeing her _still_ smile at me like that…fuckin broke whatever heart I still have. Tore me up inside, and fuck if I didn't feel like a man at that moment. A man wouldn't have allowed a woman to succumb to that. I made the mistake of letting her run away five years ago, and once again two weeks ago. Not again. I refuse to even let her leave the grounds of Tenpenny Tower.

What can I do about it, though? If she wants to leave, I have no right to stop her. I have no grounds to follow her. I can't leave Lily, I can't abandon them to go play games in the Capital Wasteland. Just coming here again…brings back memories of my training, of my missions. I'm older than fuckin' dirt, I can't play her games anymore.

"Charon?"

Her voice is quiet, whispery. I haven't heard it sound like that before. Turning around, I see her standing near the stairs. Dez, by the moonlight, is more beautiful than she ever has been before. It hurts somewhere inside, to know that I let her go.

"Hey, shouldn't you be sleeping?"

She shrugs, leaning against the rail of the stairs. Neither one of us make a move to close the gap.

"Roy's snoring kept waking me up. I figured I'd come find you."

"Oh. I see."

Nervously, I smoke. Dez watches me, her eyes shining over. Tears aren't in her eyes, I'm not sure exactly what's making them shine, but it's beautiful nonetheless. She pushes herself from the rail and gingerly walks over to me. Pulling the cigarette from my lips, she smokes it, and leans over the edge of the boat.

"When we get back, things are going to change, aren't they?"

She asks me, and I sigh, knowing.

"Yes. They are."

"I won't be able to see you, will I?"

"No, not often."

"And you're going to miss me, won't you?"

Wrapping my hands around the rail, I grip it tightly. Bruises on Dez's back seem to glow in the dark, and I have to tear my eyes away from them.

"Yes. I will."

Dez straightens her back, and steps into me. She holds the lit cigarette between her teeth, as she places my hands on her hips.

"Please don't leave me, Charon."

She says as she takes the cigarette away, blowing smoke rings. The tone of her voice doesn't match the look on her face, nor her actions.

"If you stay at the tower, I'll never be too far."

She shakes her head, and I squeeze her small hips.

"I don't know. I won't be there long, though."

Carelessly, she throws away the cigarette. I hear it sizzle out in the water below. Dez steps closer to me, my hands still firmly placed on her hips. Outstretching her arms, she wraps them around my neck, placing her hands on the back of my neck. I watch her, as she inches closer and closer to my face. Do I kiss her again? Do I allow her to think there may be a chance for us once again? Just as her lips are about to meet mine, I turn my head.

"What's wrong?"

Sighing, I can't stand to look her in the eye.

"I can't, Dez. I'm sorry, but…"

When I finally muster the courage to look at her, I see she's smiling. I have to hold back from embracing her, and kissing her like she wants me to.

"I know. A hug, isn't too much to ask now, is it?"

"No, I suppose not."

Gently, I squeeze her, lifting her light body from the ground. Her scent fills me, wisps of her hair brush against my face, as she buries her head into my neck. There's nothing I want to do more at this moment, than to take her away somewhere safe like in my dream. Somewhere warm and peaceful, where she can run free under my careful eye. Given the chance, I'd protect her forever, save her from all the evils of the world, and give her everything she ever could want. Her arms tighten around my neck, as I suspend her in the air, her body pressing against mine. When I see that smile…there's no way I can ever say no to her.

The boat jerks beneath my feet, buckling me off balance. With Dez still in my arms, I fall to the ground, the wooden floor catching me. In the short time it took for me to lose my footing and land, I find I've wrapped Dez against my body in a protective hold. As if she'd be harmed by something so simple. Beneath my arms, her body shifts, her arms remove themselves from around my neck.

I lie beneath her, her hands on either side of my face as she lifts herself up and stares down at me. Lifting my hand, I brush some strands away from her face, tucking it behind her ear. She smiles at me, the stars shining behind her, twinkling. I smile back at her, my hand rubbing her cheek gently.

"I've never seen you smile before, Charon."

Her eyes close, as she presses her face into my hand. She's perfect. I've never realized it before, but I do now. Dez, she's perfect against this backdrop of stars and twilight. There's nothing more beautiful, and if there is I don't want to see it. Dez opens her eyes, still smiling, and rubs the top of my head. Lily…pulls at my touch. She would never touch me willingly, never without disgust. Dez…Dez does it with such a look in her eye.

"Don't leave me, Charon."

She says again, and I sigh. I want to tell her I won't, want to tell her everything, but I hold back. I have responsibilities.

"Dez…"

"Just don't say anything, okay? Just let me think…let me think you won't."

"Okay."

I place my hand through her hair, and she giggles as my fingertips graze the back of my neck. I love her laugh. I never hear it enough. Dez smiles still, looking down at me. Slowly, she inches closer and closer to my face. Her lips are close to mine, too close for me to hold back. It doesn't matter anymore, nothing matters other than her. She lets me kiss her, lets me wrap my arms around her. I feel her arms, has hands, stroking my shoulders and the side of my neck. She kisses me back slowly, and I savor her taste.

Grabbing hold of my armor, Dez pulls me up as she straddles my lap. I have a feeling Tobar may have jerked the boat on purpose, but I'm not mad at him for it. Dez's hands expertly work the straps on my armor. We don't stop kissing, only pulling away for a quick second to allow her to pull the armor from my chest. She tosses it aside, kissing me more, her hands pulling my shirt out from my pants. I know what I'm doing is wrong, that I'm supposed to be loyal to Lily, but right now I'm in a moment. I've never had one before.

Dez pulls from me, and I stroke her sides as she unzips her shirt, exposing everything to me, to the world and the sky. Bruises, markings, they appear in front of me, and I frown at them. Lifting myself up, I slide her shirt from her arms and gently, gently, run my hands over every area that is bruised.

"Charon…"

She whispers into the night air. Water splashes against the side of the boat, the wind whips at us, causing Dez to shudder. Her hands stroke the back of my head, as my lips go down, kissing her neck, her collarbone. I lie a kiss over every mark and bruise she has. Moving from each one slowly, as gentle as someone like me can be. Dez holds on to me for dear life, kissing the top of my head every once in a while. My heart beats furiously inside of my chest, alive for the first time in years.

In one swift motion, I have her below me. Her eyes fixated on mine, I kiss her again, feeling her thighs against my legs. My hands run over her chest, gentle, though, so I don't hurt her. I feel her own hands fumbling for my belt, and against my will, I stop her.

"No."

I say, pulling away from her, my hands wrapped around hers.

"I want to. It won't hurt…"

That's not the reason I stop her, although it should have been. I should have been thinking of her safety, the markings and wounds below. But I wasn't. I was thinking of Lily, and how doing this with Dez would be the ultimate betrayal. I shake my head at her, balancing on my knees and looking down at her topless form.

"Dez, we have to stop this."

I bring her hands to my lips as I speak, kissing her knuckles, ignoring the red flags and warnings in my head.

"Charon…"

She sighs, wrapping her hands around my cheeks. I look down at her, transfixed. Dez, she seems to calm, so serene. I've never seen her act this way before. She sits up, removing her legs from around me. Topless she stands with her back to me. I watch as she goes over to the rail, staring out into the darkness over the water. Behind her, the sun is beginning to rise. I shake my head, feeling as if I've let her down once again.

I grab her top as I stand, and walk behind her.

"You should dress, get some rest. If you sleep for a few hours, we'll be closer to home when you wake."

Dez shakes her head.  
"I don't want to be closer to home. I know once we _get_ home, all this won't matter."

I shake her top at her like an impatient child.

"Please, dress."

"Come with me back to New Vegas. You'd love it, Charon. Gambling, bar fights, people, a busy city. No one messes with you if your gun is bigger, and there's cheap places. We could get a house for like, three hundred caps. Sure it would be small, but it'd be _ours_."

She turns, speaking, looking at me. Her eyes light up with childish inspiration and anticipation, as if her pipe-dreams could work. I shake my head at her, sliding her arms through the sleeves of her top.

"How would I explain that to Lily?"

Dez zips up her top, stepping closer to me.

"Tell Roy to tell her we died in Point Lookout. We never have to go home again, Charon. We can make a _new_ home. You know I heard up north, there's still green stuff. There's a place where there's _real_ grass and _real_ trees. We could go there."

As much as I want to believe such a place exists, I am smarter than that. I know there is nothing up north. I mean, aside from Oasis, but that place is for crazies. I know it's not what she's talking about, either.

"Dez, no. Come on, we have to stop this. It's getting us nowhere."

She sighs, and looks down. I hold back comforting her, hold back from making all her sadness go away.

"Yeah. You're right. I'm gonna…kick Roy out and try to sleep, I guess."

Dez pushes past me. She walks with her head hung low, slowly hobbling towards the stairs. I shake my head, running my fingers through the few strands of hair I have left. I watch her, until I see the top of her head vanish below the deck. Turning around, I slam my hand down on the rail, the vibrations echo around the boat, and out into the darkness. Damn me, curse me to hell.

The second this boat docks ends whatever chance I have with Dez. I know this, because I know her. I know once this stupid tugboat lets us off, she's going to take off, and this time she won't come back. There's nothing I can do about that, either. I can't leave my family, I can't abandon them for…her. For the girl I watched over, the girl who leaned on me for everything. The girl I held close while she cried and wailed into the night countless times. The girl who broke me free of my contract, caused me insane amounts of rage, caused me injury and worry when it wasn't necessary, who risked our lives at the expense of a 'good time'. Who left me alone in Fort Bannister while she ran to safety, who caused fights for no reason other than she was 'bored', who stabbed me in the back, literally, and laughed about it later. Who…who drove me insane with so many different things all at once that I've never in my life had the privilege to feel…who…I held close every night. Whose soft breathing was often my lullaby, whose pain I wanted to chase away. Whose always…always…saved a smile whenever I asked for one…who I risked my life for, because I cared for…the girl who loved me.

Five years is a long time, but it's nothing compared to all we went through in a year and a half. Nothing, compared to what we've done for one another, what she did for me, what I did for her. Resting my elbows on the rail, I light a cigarette and peer down. Dez's feet are visible, and I assume she's laying on the floor. Roy isn't the greatest bed-partner, I presume. Sighing, I blow smoke into the brightening sky. I hear Dez's muffled sigh in reply, and I smile at it. I wish I could fix this, but I know I can't.

"Dez?"

I call down in a whisper. She waits, but I can see her feet shifting, she's awake.

"Hm?"

She says, pretending to be sleeping.

"I…Well I hope you decide to stay at Tenpenny Tower for a bit."

I am the bravest man in a fight. I am the strongest, the fastest, the most strategic and intelligent. I know about nearly every topic worth studying, and traveled into places that even the heroes in movies would cower at. I have shot men, stabbed, drowned, beaten, and any other way of death. My hands are soaked with the blood of my own family, and I continue on. I am able to endure all of that, and more, but telling Dez that…I care about her is hard. I want to laugh at myself, at the irony of it all.

"For a little, I will. Not long, I have plans."

"Plans?"

I'm sure she nodded, then realized I couldn't see her. A muffled 'm-hm' proved that to me.

"I'm going to find the green place. I'm going north until I find it. And it's going to be beautiful."

"That place doesn't exist."

"It _might_."

"And if it doesn't?"

She comes over into my view, her back leaning against the bottom rail.

"Then I'll have another adventure under my belt, won't I?"

I smirk. Since when did she become so optimistic?

"I guess you will. Any idea where to start looking for this place?"

Dez fumbles with the Magnum in her hand, looking through the sight. She knows that sight is pointless, with a Magnum's kickback it would break, shatter, her eye socket. She's going to kill many things, people, with that gun.

"Just go north. I won't stop till I find it. If I never do, well, I'll figure that part out after."

"That's your plan, then?"

She looks up at me, her face set and focused. She looks at me like a stranger. I feel like one, to her, to myself.

"For now, it is. I'll go back, say goodbye to Gob, then…head out into the wild blue yonder."

I sigh, smoking and shaking my head.

"Will you come back to the Capital Wasteland?"

"No. Not this time. Nothing I need to come back for."

I want to jump down there, pick her up, and take her. Take her to the nonexistent world of green sunshine and trees. Take her to where there is no danger, where only she and I are. I'll kiss her under a tree, with Cherry Blossoms. We'll live together, happy, peaceful. But I don't. I nod, and she leaves. I've let her go before, and now is no easier.

I have that dream again. That dream, where Dez and I are someplace warm. It's the end of spring, beginning of summer. She wears a different dress, light pink, with no straps. I look down at my hands, and smile because they're human. Dez twirls around with the wind, the sun is bright as I stare at her smiling.

"Charon…"

She says, as she stops. I walk over to her, her hands find mine. She pulls them to her pink, full lips, kissing them softly. I notice…she pronounces it 'Ka-ron', not 'Sha-ron'. In mythology, she'd be right.

"What is it?"

I hear myself ask, as I take hold of her thin waist. There's a color to her cheeks, her sun-kissed face. She isn't wearing a hat, and lets her hair flow down freely. It brushes against my hands, as I hold her.

"Don't leave me, Charon."

"I won't."

I tell her, before I bend down to kiss her. She's never tasted so sweet. It reminds me of rock candy. How when you lick it from your lips, you get the sugary, sweet sensation on your tongue. Kissing her tastes exactly the same. She parts from me, taking the sweet taste and sensation away. I look at her, at her freckles, and wonder what makes her like me so much.

"You're going to, though."

"No, Dez, I'm not."

She pulls away from my grip, smiling.

"You should wake up now, you're almost home."

I open my eyes to view the roof of the _Duchess Gambit_ above me. Looking around, it's bright. My dream. It's not real. Just a dream, a simple, foolish, wishful dream. I shake my head as I stand, I must have fallen asleep on the floor. It doesn't matter, as I rub the sleep from my eyes. The weather, it's warm enough to sleep anywhere, I suppose.


	20. Caught in a Bad Romance

I made a new friend. His name is Jack. He's my age, a bit older, but not by much. Few weeks, I'd say. Right now, we're packing up for our trip. I met Jack when Charon, Roy and I were heading back to the tower. Kind of picked him up on the way, really. Ran into him just wandering aimlessly in the desert, like he was lost. When I talked to him, he told me he was trying to get north. Well, if you're walking my way, I'll walk with you.

Took him back to the tower, and we've been doing random shit for caps to pay for all we'll need. He's pretty nice, I mean, I like him anyways. He makes me laugh, and he's pretty handsome. He's got short black hair, some five o'clock shadow, and bright green eyes. Not really sure how else to describe him. Looks a bit like Butch, but hardened, more knowledgeable and capable in the Capital Wasteland. He carries a shotgun, like I used to, till I got this Magnum.

It's been two weeks, and we're itching to get a move on. We're leaving tomorrow morning, hopefully, if all goes well. He keeps telling me he's going to take me away from this place, and we'll find the green fields. At first, he was just going north for the sake of going north. Once I told him why I was going north, though, he agreed to come along with me. If you ask me, I think Jack's taken a liking to me. He follows me everywhere, and even introduced himself to Charon.

Of course, when I told him my history with Charon, he flinched…a lot. But he's the first guy, person, I've let myself get close to in a long time. Aside from Gob, that is. And Charon. I don't know why, but I just feel safe, comfortable with Jack. Maybe it's because he can really make me laugh, and I don't laugh enough. Hell aside from the slight flinching, he didn't really seem affected when I told him about Charon. Just said it was an interesting story, really.

"You have everything set?"

Jack asks as we sit in the lobby of Tenpenny Tower. Our new pack is in front of me, filled with a mixture of things, both mine and his. He's going to carry it.

"Uh, yeah I think so. You?"

He nods. I feel kind of bad for Jack. Roy won't give him a place to sleep, so he's been sleeping in the chairs in the lobby. Gob, surprisingly, doesn't like him either. Something about the way he looks at me. It doesn't matter, though. Jack makes me laugh, and I like that. It just sucks because I get a warm bed in Gob's apartment, and he gets a chair.

"Yeah I have it all covered. Just making sure you're set. You seem pretty scatter-brained sometimes."

I laugh at Jack, punching him playfully in the arm.

"Shut up, dick."

He laughs, and flinches at my punch. I smile at him, and he sighs.

"Hey I'm gonna get some rest. You should uh, go and get some too. And tie up loose ends."

I cock an eyebrow at him as I light a cigarette.

"Loose ends?"

I ask, blowing smoke in the air. The one thing I made sure I was in full stock of, is cigarettes. I have about three or four cartons shoved inside that pack, and a few handfuls of lighters, too. I always seem to lose mine…

"You know…maybe you should talk to Charon…tell him you're leaving."

I nearly choke on the smoke in my throat as I try to make rings with it. I haven't spoken to Charon since we got to the tower, and he sure as hell doesn't know I'm leaving, let alone leaving with Jack. Gob's the only one who knows, and he swore a sacred vow he would not tell.

"What? Why?"

The fact that Jack is actually suggesting this shocks me. Jack shrugs, playing with his hands in his lap.

"Well…because you two have a lot of history together. Leaving without saying goodbye seems kind of…stupid."

I roll my eyes and stand up. I don't want to think about Charon, let alone talk to him. After what happened with him on the boat and in Point Lookout, I'm all set.

"Thanks, maybe I will. Night."

I wave to Jack as I head outside. I feel like being alone, getting some fresh air and whatnot. I shut the doors behind me, and slowly walk out into the courtyard. The moon illuminates everything, making it look creepy and romantic all at once. I smile at it. Tonight, is the last night I will ever see this place again. It's the last night I ever plan on spending in the Capital Wasteland, and the last night I'll ever be around so many ghouls. I should enjoy this moment.

So I do. I clear my head, and take everything in. I look around, then close my eyes. Sniffing, I make a mental note to always remember the distinct smell of Tenpenny Tower. Like people, places have their own scent, too. I smile, just a bit, as I open my eyes. The stars twinkle, the moon is bright, the air is cool. I don't know how it'll be up north, but hell I'm happy to wonder. Not knowing is half the fun, isn't it? I think it is. Hell I have a new lease right now. I have a new friend, who actually likes my company, and I have a whole new adventure waiting for me. There's nothing really to frown about.

"Dez?"

Except, maybe that. I wince, as I turn around to see Charon. I've been avoiding him since we got here, and I'm in no mood to see him now.

"What?"

But what can I do now, run? Instead I stand there, smoking, and watch as he comes over to me. The only time I've seen him lately, is when Lily and him are conjoined at the hip and parading around the tower. The only time he's seen me, is when I let him, and when I'm with Jack. This time, we're both alone.

"What are you doing out here so late?"

He asks like it's his goddamn business.

"Why do you care? I can do what I want."

"True, just curious."

He stands next to me, but not looking at me. Instead, we stare at the front gate to the tower. It's an awkward silence…and I figure I'll take Jack's advice. Turning towards Charon, I narrow my eyes, and suck in a deep breath of air.

"I'm leaving in the morning with Jack."

It comes out so fast, I'm not really sure if Charon hears it. But by the look on his face, I can tell he does.

"What? Are you kidding me? When was this decided?"

"A few days ago."

I tell him, nonchalantly.

"Dez you can't take off with him. You don't even know him!"

Throwing out my smoke, I rub it into the decrepit concrete with my boot and cross my arms.

"I know him. Well enough to know he won't hurt me anyways."

"And you were going to leave without telling me, weren't you?"

I shrug, not letting his slight anger get to me. The night is too pretty to let it.

"Well you seemed to have your hands full with Lily."

I'm referring to the time I saw them playing tonsil hockey in the lobby like they were in their own damn room. I'm sure he doesn't know I saw that, though.

"You should have told me sooner, Dez."

"Why?"

He shakes his head.

"Maybe so I could have had time…to…"

"To do what?"

"I don't know, say goodbye?"

"Goodbye, Charon. See, no time involved. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to walk around outside these gates one last time."

I turn away from him, and begin walking towards the gate. Believe me, it's really hard to be mean to him, to turn away and up and leave like this, but I have to. I have to let it go, really. Charon and I are in the past. Despite what happened two weeks ago, we're not much of anything anymore. Even though…I wanted us to be.

I slip out the gate, and to my utter annoyance, Charon follows.

"Dez, are you seriously going to leave?"

I turn around, baring my teeth at him.

"Yes, and you're not stopping me."

"I'm not trying to. I'm trying to figure out why the hell you want to chase a pipe dream."

I cross my eyes, and lean up against the fence.

"Because I can't sit here and watch you suck-face with Lily all the damn time. If you're not man enough to leave her, you're not man enough for me."

Charon shakes his head in bewilderment. I think my sentence makes perfect sense.

"Man enough to leave my family for another woman?"

"The other woman who happens to be someone you _used_ to care a lot about."

"I still…"

"Don't even go there."

I snap before he can even finish his sentence. I don't want to hear it. I don't want to hear what he has to say because I have a plan. I'm leaving tomorrow, and that's final. He can't fuck this up for me.

"Dez…"

He mutters, shaking his head.

"It's your fault. You won't leave Lily, and I _told_ you I wasn't waiting forever."

"But leaving with some guy you just met? That's insane."

"He's taking me away! He's taking me away from this place, from this world, and from _you_. We're going to find those green areas, and we're going to be happy!"

Charon smirks, shaking his head.

"And what? Live happily ever after in an imaginary world? Really smart, Dez."

"Say what you want, but that place is real. I know it is. And yes, happily ever after."

"Stupid…"

"It's only stupid because you're mad you didn't try to do it first."

I tell him, pointing at him in blame. Charon steps forward, knocking my hand away from him.

"_You_ left _me_, Dez. Don't think it's the other way around."

"I don't! It turned out to be the best damn thing I did, too!"

"Excuse me?"

He asks, a bit shocked. I kick myself from the fence, and push him back.

"Because of you, I spent _five years_ dealing with shit I didn't need! Because of you, and your stupid shit I spend _five years_ of nights _crying_ over you! I didn't deserve it! I didn't deserve you fucking letting me go! You did this to yourself!"

Charon gets mad, and shoves me back against the fence, holding me in place.

"You leaving with some man doesn't constitute what I did five years ago. You are being stupid, foolish, and impulsive. You could get hurt, Dez!"

Tears of anger rush up on me, and I snarl at him.

"I don't care! It's better than watching you dry-hump Lily in the middle of the lobby!"

"I did no such thing!"

"I saw you making out with her!"

"She is my _girlfriend_. I can do what I want with her."

"It doesn't count if she doesn't even _like_ you, Charon."

Did he forget that just two weeks ago, he was kissing me? Or was that a fake, a front that meant nothing because I was…vulnerable?

"You don't know _anything_ about my relationship."

"What about me then, huh Charon? What happened in Point Lookout? On the boat? What did that mean? Nothing I bet. You were just…filling time until you could get home and _fuck_ her!"

Forcefully, Charon shoves me into the fence again. I wrap my hands around his wrists, looking up at him, sniffing as tears fall. I'm angry. I'm angry because he acted like nothing happened, like it meant nothing. When…when to me it meant _everything_.

"Don't you think for one second…"

"What? What huh?"

I shout at him, pushing his buttons.

"That you never meant a goddamn thing!"

I stop resisting. I stop struggling against his grip, and look up at him. His face isn't twisted in anger. It's different, really. Something I've never seen before. Something soft, but violent. I have to force myself to look away.

"You act like I didn't."

I mutter, sniffing again. His hands let go of my shoulders, but I feel them, his hands, grab my face. He turns my head towards him, staring into my eyes. Without any hesitation, Charon bends down, his hands still gripping the sides of my head, and kisses me forcefully. At first, I try to pull away, try to fight him off. But…he's stronger, and I really don't want him to stop. He kisses me, the smacking noise our lips make echoes in the distance. It's almost…like he's kissing me goodbye. No, tomorrow I'm leaving, and nothing he can say or do will sway that. Unless he gets rid of Lily and opts to come along. Then…then I'll wonder who Jack even is.

"Don't you ever, for one second, think that anything that happened with us meant nothing."

He tells me, like an adult scolding a child.

"Then why do you do this? Why do you do this to me, but go back to Lily?"

Charon shakes his head, his hands still holding me, his lips just centimeters from mine.

"I don't know…I don't."  
"Then you have to stop. If you're not going to, I will."

Struggling, I try to break free of his grip. Try to get out and run back inside, to the warmth and comfort of Gob's apartment. This isn't how I wanted my last night here to be remembered. Charon doesn't let me get free. He moves his feet, quick, fast, putting me back against the fence and kissing me again.

"I _can't_."

He says in between heated kisses.

"You just like having two women!"

I accuse, trying to shove him off. It doesn't work, though, his brute force better than mine.

"No, Dez."

He says, lifting me up and wrapping my legs around his waist.

"Put me down! Let me go!"

He kisses me again, quieting any arguments I may have had.

"I'm trying, Dez, I'm trying."

He mutters, kissing down the side of my neck.

"Trying what?"

"I don't know…"

His kisses make me shudder, makes me swell with anticipation. I dig my nails into the back of his armor, stifling moans of pleasure.

"Don't leave, Dez. Stay here…we'll figure something out."

He pushes his body into mine. If we weren't fully clothed, we'd be having sex, basically.

"No, no I'm going. Stop it. Stop I know what you're doing…I'm not staying fuck you it won't work."

He ignores me, ignores everything I have to say. He presses his lips against mine again, and you know what? I give up.

"Tell me you'll stay…"

He whispers, almost begging. He holds my up by my upper thighs, it's the first time I'm tall enough to see him eye-to-eye.

"I'll stay, Charon. I'll stay."

Charon kisses me, and it feels like the first time all over again. His hands, my hands, our heavy breathing, it's all there. I fumble for his belt, while he kisses down my neck and fondles my exposed breast. I finally unclasp his belt, as he stifles my moans with more well-timed kisses. His hands are everywhere on me, as I tug down his zipper. He holds me up by balancing me on his waist and on the fence. I don't want him to put me down.

"Charon…"

I moan, his tongue feeling so good against my skin. One of his hands works at my own belt and zipper, while the other strokes up and down my side. Finally, he gets my pants undone, and pauses. He only pauses to pull one of my legs out of my pants, and pins me up against the wall again.

"Are you sure?"

He asks, hesitating, his mouth inches from mine.

"Only if you are."

"I am."

He kisses me, before I can utter a moan as I feel him. I cling to his back, as he lets my mouth go and buries his head into my neck. Between his grunts, and my moans, I remember everything. I remember why I fell in love with him in the first place, why I went back to Fort Bannister, why I came back to the Capital Wasteland. For him, all for him, just for him. I went away, to see if he would chase me, and he didn't. It broke my heart, hurt me in ways I can't even describe, but this time…right now…it doesn't matter.

"Charon…"

I yell in pleasure, just as he kisses me. I feel the rush of finishing, of going to heaven and coming back down, with the one person I've ever given a shit about.

"I love you, Dezbe."

He says, exhausted, as high as I am. I look into his eyes, slowly caressing his cheeks with my hands. I don't say anything back, but I kiss him. I kiss him, as he lets my legs fall back down to the solid ground, as he lets my body slide away. In time…I'll know if he means that, or if the heat of the moment caused him to say it.


	21. Follow Me

"Give this to Charon in a week, okay?"

I tell Gob as I hand him the sealed envelope. It's an hour before dawn, and Jack's waiting for me just outside the door.

"Kid, are you sure about this?"

Gob asks, and I smile sweetly at him.

"I'm going away, Gob. I'm going to a far away place, and hell it might not exist, but I have to see. If…if Charon meant what he said, he'll know what to do."

Gob shakes his head, giving me a tight hug.

"I'm going to miss you, kid. Sure you won't be coming back?"

"I'll send word once I can, but no, I'm not coming back."

I let Gob go, and take one last look at him. My best friend, my only real friend out here in this world. He gives me a sad smile, and shakes the envelope in his hand.

"Alright, kid. You have fun, and for fuck's sake, stay alive."

Kissing Gob's cheek, I leave the apartment. Jack meets me just outside his door, and shuffles with the pack on his back.

"Ready?"

He asks. I take one last look around, and peer down at the elevator. Last night, I kissed Charon goodnight inside that elevator. I didn't want to let him go. I didn't want to go to sleep, because I knew this would be the hardest thing to do. Harder than leaving the first time. I can't show anyone that, though. I have to be brave, be strong. From here on out, there'll be no more crying.

"Yeah, I'm ready."

I say as I look back at Jack. He smiles at me, unaware of the events that took place last night. Unaware that…last night I remembered how much I love Charon. How much he influences my choices and actions. How I would be dead, if it weren't for him saving me so many times, so long ago. I can't live in the past anymore. I can't. This is a new life, a new chance for me. I'm not hung upon Charon this time, I'm not wondering what I left behind. Now, now is different.

Now…is a new journey. I know he loves me, at least he said it. But this time…this time I'm leaving with a note. Inside that envelope…well, let's just say if Charon loves me, he'll know exactly what to do. If he means it, this time my leaving will be different. If nothing comes of it, and I end up never seeing him again, I'll just cherish the memories, I guess. I love him, but if I can't have him, then there's no point. I just hope…this time…things turn out a lot different.


	22. When Doves Cry

(Gob)

I pace outside Charon's door. Hell I don't know what the fuck I'm supposed to say. If you were there the day Dez left, you'd be nervous too. Trust me on that one, you would be. Shit if I ain't never seen a man so damned enraged before. I have that stupid envelope, and fuck I have no idea what's in it, but my directions are clear. Give it to Charon in a week. Well it's been a week, and one hell of a week at that, too.

Shit when Charon woke up the day Dez left, he came right to my door. Pounded on it like his goddamned life depended on it. When I got around to settling Zack down and answering the door, Charon looked like a fuckin' kid in a candy store.

"Where is she?"

He asked, eager, like someone asking where their birthday gift is.

"…Shit man…she left."

I told him and fuck if that wasn't hard. Charon seemed to take a minute, to register what I had just said. But let me tell you once it did register, he was all hollering and hitting holes in the damned hallway. I don't remember what he said, probably a bunch of gibberish and shit, but hell if it didn't scare the shit out of me.

After he was done hitting the walls and flipping out…Charon kind of just got blank. Same stare he used to have when he worked for Ahzrukhal. The guy didn't seem to notice anything unimportant, hell anything at all, really. For days, a week, he's been in that state. I've tried talking to him, but all he does is glance in my general direction, and keep walking. Lily doesn't really notice, that or she doesn't care. I talked to her a day or two ago, asked if he was doing alright. Lily just stared at me like I had six heads and shook her head.

"What do you mean? Charon's fine, why wouldn't he be?"

Hell the damn woman is more oblivious than he is now. I'm hoping whatever the hell is in this envelope will help Charon clear his head. Maybe bring him down to earth. I hate to say this, but hell I miss the fucker. He's the closest thing to a friend I've had besides Dez. Seeing him like this has really bugged the shit out of me. It's like seeing, hell I don't know, a zombie I guess. Charon looks and now even _acts_ like one. Well…aside from the once-in-a-while act of violence.

Shit just a few days ago some brawl happened with a couple ghouls down in the lobby. Everyone was just standing around, watching, not doing anything. Even me, I always like a good fight. It was pretty good, too I'd say. Even match, both ghouls looked the same height and weight. Some ghouls were even taking bets on the whole shebang. Then, out of nowhere, Charon appears.

All of us, aside from the two in the fight, turned to look at Charon. He walked calm, still in a daze with his hands at his side. He held his gun in his hand, walking steady towards the two ghouls. When he finally came up to them, he simply cocked his gun, and fired in the air.

"You two stop this bullshit or I'll kill you both."

Charon told them, without any hint of emotion or anger in his voice. Hell the way he was just _standing_ there scared everyone. The two ghouls stopped their fighting, and the crowd dispersed. Charon waited patiently, watching everyone leave. When everyone was gone, he looked around, looked at me, and walked back to wherever he came. Nothing more needed to be said, but hell seeing my friend like that actually bothered me.

I take in a big sigh, and raise a shaky fist to the door. Bessie Lynn, bless her heart, is watching Zack for the day so that I could do this. I knock, and wait. My heart feels like it's in my chest, and I have to wipe the palms of my hands on my pants. Shit I feel like a pre-teen boy asking his first date to a Sadie Hawkins dance, or some lame-ass shit like that. The sound of a lock clicking, and the door opening a bit jolts me, and I take a step back. Charon peers out through the half-cracked door, his eyes menacing.

"What?"

He growls, I listen, but I don't hear Lily in the background.

"Hey uh…can I talk to you?"

I stutter, clasping the envelope tightly. Charon thinks it over, his eyes narrowing as he looks down at me. Finally, he opens his door enough for me to walk in. I do, and there's no sign on Lily or Mackenzie. Perfect.

"What do you want, Gob?"

Charon's voice seems distant. Like he hasn't spoken to anyone at all in a few days or so. I turn to face him as he lights a smoke, offering one to me. I take it, and he lights it for me. I hold the envelope out to him, but he eyes it without taking it.

"This is for you."

I force out, shaking the package. Charon looks from it to me a few times, before he finally takes it. There's nothing written on it, it's just a white envelope. Hell I don't even know what's inside of it.

"From who?"

He demands, and I sigh.

"…Dez gave it to me the morning she left. She told me to give it to you in a week, said you'd know what to do."

Charon's eyes shine over at the sound of Dez's name. He runs his hands over the envelope, examining it in the dim apartment light.

"She did, did she?"

He asks, and I nod, exhaling smoke. Charon puts his cigarette between his teeth, and tears open the envelope. There's nothing but a single piece of paper inside. He holds it so we can both view it. It's not a note, not scribbles of words or anything. Hell it's a drawing. An intricate and detailed…map. Arrows point to two destinations, Tenpenny Tower, and somewhere up north. It's obvious the land mass at the bottom of the map is the Capital Wasteland, but I don't know what anything else is on it. Looking closer, I notice there's an arrow, close to the edge of the Capital Wasteland. It says 'When you get this, I will be here'. Dez obviously took a lot of time to do this for him, and I sigh.

"What the fuck does she expect me to do with this?"

Charon growls, turning the paper over. It's blank on the other side, and he tosses it onto a shelf carelessly. For some reason, that really pisses me off and I pick it up. I force it back into his hands, and cross my arms.

"Shit, Charon can you really be that stupid?"

He looks at me, stunned.

"What'd you say, Gob?"

"I mean, you must be. You let her get away once. Let her walk on out of your life, out of everyone's life, without any inclination of following her. Without any knowledge of where she was going. Now look, she left again. But this time, she left a fucking note. Hell more than that, a _map_. I think she wants you to chase after her."

Charon stares at me, blank. He looks at the map in his hand again, and shakes his head. His nonchalant attitude makes me so fucking _angry_. I watch as he puts the map back on the shelf, and leans against the wall.

"I'm not doing that."

He says, and I shake my head. There's no more arguing with him, I can tell. Instead of fighting, I raise my hands in defeat, and walk myself to the door.

"If she didn't love you, she wouldn't have fucking left a map. If you don't want to follow her, fine, but I don't think you're ever going to have another chance in the world with her if you don't."

I tell him, before slamming his apartment door behind me. People are so fucking stupid. Out here in this world, love is rare. Hell you're lucky if you can get laid sometimes. Here, Charon has a girl, Dez, who he _refuses_ to chase after. The bastard can even take the truck I've been rebuilding. As long as he fucking _goes_ I don't care what he takes or who he kills in the process. But fuck, I doubt he has the balls to leave Lily anyways. It's stupid. This whole thing. Both of them. Stupid, childish, little kids. If I could, I'd ground them both, just like I do Zack. Time out in a corner, and that's that. Fuckers.


	23. Maybe I'll Say Maybe

(Charon)

That Ink Spots song plays on the radio in my room. The 'Maybe' one, as if Three Dog is taunting me. Mocking me. Annoying me. But I don't make any movement to turn it off. All I do is sit on the edge of my bed, with my head in my hands, and Dez's hand-drawn map beside me. The sun set hours ago, and fuck Lily's down in the lobby with the kid just 'hanging out'. Sighing, I take a drag of my cigarette as I sit in the dark, the lyrics to the song driving me insane.

I finally told her I loved her. Finally admitted something for five years I couldn't even say aloud to myself. Then, the bitch left. The fucking bitch left me, without so much as a goodbye handshake. Like my words never mattered to her, like she didn't even hear them. It angered me…pissed me off…enraged me. I've never felt so betrayed. I hope the damn bitch is crying right now, crying and wishing she never left. It's not like she left to do anything, either. She left to chase a pipe-dream. Something that doesn't even _exist_. With some loser who can't shoot a target if it was a foot away.

No. No I can't chase her. I can't follow this map. The only reason I haven't torn it to pieces and thrown it out the window is because…shit I don't know. I want to, lord knows I do, but I can't seem to do it. I sigh, letting smoke drift all around me. Lily forbids smoking in the room, but I don't care anymore. I haven't given her any type of attention since Dez left. How could I? After what I did to her. I cheated, lied, for what? For Dez to leave? Fuck it I don't care.

But…shit if I didn't care I wouldn't feel this way. I wouldn't…be so damned confused. Dez leaving like that killed me. It hurts more than when she left the first time. But…Gob's right. She left a map, and I know she wants me to follow her. Follow her, like she's followed me. All I see now in my dreams is her, I wake every day, angry that it was just a dream. But if I do this, chase her, what then? Will she…stay with me? Or will she be too busy with that guy? I don't know, I don't.

Looking down at the map, something shifts. Something in my brain works, clicks. I remember Point Lookout, the boat, the night before she left. Even after five years, I love her. Picking the map up, I stare at it by light of my cigarette. It will take me a week to reach where she claims to be on foot. Shit no, am I really thinking of doing this? Of turning my back on my family and risking my life to chase Dez?

I've risked more than my life for her in the past. Now…now is no different. I'm angry at her for leaving, but I know…if I do this she won't ever be away from me. I don't know how I know, but I can feel it. I feel it inside of me, as I walk around my apartment grabbing things and shoving them inside of a pillowcase. This is Dez's final test. If I can find her, chase her down, she won't ever leave me again. I'll have left Lily for her, and put myself through hell just to get back to her side. If that doesn't prove something, if that doesn't say something, I don't know what does.

Even in my dreams, she begs me not to leave her. Time and time again it's the same dream. The same scene. She looks beautiful, sun-kissed, amazing. Each time we part from a kiss, she asks me not to leave, and each time I tell her I won't. But once I say the words, she shakes her head, and says that I will. Then I wake up. I wake, with the image of her fresh in my mind, her voice pleading with me. This time, Dez, I'm not leaving you.

If I was put on this earth for anything, it's her. When she smiles I want to cry. When she laughs I want to laugh with her. I'm stronger, emotionally, than before. I know what I have to do to keep her. If this trip costs me my life, it will be worth it. If saving her sends me to hell, so be it. My life holds no importance if she's not in it. If it wasn't for her I wouldn't even _know_ what emotions are.

Gripping the map tightly, I walk down to Gob's apartment and pound on the door. Doing this by foot will take too long. I have no time for it. Gob opens the door, smoking, with Zack running around behind him. I stare down at him, pillowcase of things in one hand, map in the other.

"I need your keys."

Without question, Gob reaches into his pocket, and hands them to me.

"There's three or four refills of gas in the back. You have to hit the clutch before you shift gears. The gas pedal sticks sometimes, go light on it."

I nod, taking the keys. He doesn't say anything else to me as I turn, and make my way down the stairs. Lily is still in the lobby, and she sees me heading towards the door.

"Charon, are you going on another job?"

She demands, the smell of wine on her is potent. I glare down at her, at a loss for words almost.  
"No. I'm not coming back."  
I ignore her shrill screams as I leave. Ignore her protests and hollers. I know in a few day's time, she'll be out of Tenpenny Tower. For some reason, I'm not as bothered by this as I should be. I don't care. I'm going to find Dez. I'm not wasting any more time. I can't. I know now, what I have to do. For the first time in over five years, I know. I know and I don't care about anything else. It's amazing, to feel such freedom, as this.


	24. A Secret Place, A Sweet Escape

The sun is bright, warm, it's nice. I like it. It's cooler here, than in the Capital Wasteland, but it's better. More tolerable. There's no dust, like I've seen in New Vegas. This place, wherever I am, its beautiful. In, of course, a destroyed kind of way, but if you saw it, if you could see what I see, you'd smile, too.

It's like after two-hundred years, everything is starting to come back. I look around and smile, because there's a hint of something that wasn't present anywhere else. The further north Jack and I travel, the fresher the air feels, the cooler the water, the brighter the sun. Sometimes, when I'm walking, I think I see grass under my feet. Real grass, too, growing and sprouting. With each step I get more and more excited, and I check my Pip-Boy map every chance I can. I knew this place existed. Sure I haven't gotten there yet, but I'm going, I'm on my way. It's real, I can feel it.

"You're smiling a lot lately, Dez. Anything special on your mind?"

Jack says as he takes my hand. I smile at him. I've never felt this…liberated before. This sense of freedom is so new, so amazing, so peaceful. The morning I left was hard, along with a couple of days after. I thought about my life, really began to think about it. I thought about Charon, about Gob and everyone I've ever met before. Then I realized, I never really did anything for myself. Sure, leaving for New Vegas was something kind of for me, but it was more of a route of self-discovery. I spent most of my time dreaming and thinking of Charon, wondering and crying about him. This time, though, it isn't like that. Of course, I miss him, but it's not like before. Maybe because…I know. I know he loves me, and I heard it. It's closure, I think. Closure that…I never had before. Knowing he cares, knowing I care, keeps me warm at night.

"There's a lot to smile about."

I tell Jack, feeling him squeezing my hand. Jack likes me, and I know it. He hasn't tried anything other than holding my hand, and I appreciate that. This trip, this long seemingly never-ending journey, showed me how much freedom I have. I can do _anything_ and there's no one in the world to object.

"Oh really? Like what?"

I tilt my head up to the cloudless blue sky, and smile a bit wider.

"Like this. The weather, the sight of baby grass under my feet, the idea that the world is huge, even if it's destroyed."

We haven't run into any trouble, either. No bad guys, no Super Mutants, none of that. Nothing that would cause me to waste ammo. Nothing to shoot at. Sometimes, at night, Jack and I let our guards down. We light a big fire, and I play music on my Pip-Boy while we dance around the fire like possessed children. We laugh, we tell stories, we learn about one another. Before when I left, I was all alone, never bothered to let myself get close to anyone. This time is different. This time, I'm free, truly free. Why? Because this time Charon knows. He has a map. If he decides to follow me, then man I'll be happy, but if not I'll be happy, too. Spending my whole life waiting for someone to come around…isn't what I want.

"I'm glad to hear that. When we were at the tower, it always felt like you were carrying a weight around with you."

Jack says as we walk through a small stream. In the Capital Wasteland, there was no streams. Only a river, the Potomac River.

"I guess I kind of was. But I'm not anymore."

"Did it have anything to do with that ghoul? Charon?"

Jack's been wanting to ask me about Charon for a while. I could feel it. He just never did, and hell that was okay with me, I wasn't pushing for any heart-to-heart about him anyways.

"Yeah…it did."

I say, looking down at the…soil? Is that what it's called, when stuff grows from it?

"Dez, I really need to ask you something. It's personal…so if you don't want to answer, it's okay."

Looking at Jack, I slide my hand away from his. Pulling out my ponytail, I run my fingers through my hair. It's gotten longer, and I think I like it. I need a new look, to fit the new me.

"Alright, shoot."

I tell him, smirking and lighting a cigarette. Jack sighs loudly, and looks at the ground while he rubs the back of his tanned neck.

"Alright…well…I was just wondering…do you still love Charon?"

The question is personal. It's something no one's ever asked me before, go figure. I don't really know how to answer it. Glancing down, I sigh. I told Charon I'd chase him, follow him, until he loved me. Now that I know he does…I'm not sure if I _wouldn't_ follow him. I mean, I know I left him, but if he followed me, came all this way just for me…then hell I'd go with him. I'd leave whatever I had behind and…live happily ever after with him. Yes, I love him, but the answer isn't that simple.

"Well…I do still love him, and I always will. But...it's kind of like how you'll always care about your first real love."

"But would you say no if he asked for you back?"

"Jack, there's no real answer to that."

He looks at me, making me a bit nervous. I have to look away, and I stare at my feet as I walk. Jack slips his hand back into mine, and I sigh.

"Why?"

I bite my lip at his question. He knows a lot about mine and Charon's relationship…but unless anyone has ever seen us, and how we are together…they wouldn't understand.

"…Because of Charon, a lot of things have happened. He's saved my life more times than I can count, he's followed me more than I've followed him, and he's always been there. But at the same time, he's caused me a lot of pain, too. Maybe that's brought on by my own stupid actions, but we have a lot of history. Disregarding circumstances to just answer a simple 'yes' or 'no' is impossible. If he asked for me back, right now, I don't know. It depends on a lot of things."

"If he's caused you a lot of pain then, why bother?"

Jack, although a bit older than me, is really fucking stupid.

"You've never loved someone, have you?"

He shrugs, giving me a half-assed smile.

"Not like you seem to love Charon, no."

I shrug, taking a drag of my smoke.

"Well, what Charon and I had is really hard to find. Not to toot my own horn or anything."

I say, and he pushes me away from him playfully. Laughing we get into a punching match, and as always, I win. Jack drops the subject, and I'm happy he does. A part of me…doesn't want to talk about Charon. I don't want to think about how I love him, and if he'll ever come and follow me. Hell I don't even know if Gob gave him my letter. It's been almost two weeks, he should have by now.

Jack stops walking, and stands next to me. I stop, and look at him. His face slowly spreads into a wide smile, and I cock an eyebrow.

"What are you smiling about?"

I say, and he looks at me, pointing ahead of him. Shrugging, I look out ahead, and end up smiling, too. We're high up on a steep hill. Below us…is a sight I've never seen before. It's beautiful, breathtaking. It nearly knocks me off of my feet. Green, it's all green. Lush, vibrant, happy green. Trees, grass, it's all below us. Way far down, but so close. Fields and fields of green. Tears well in my eyes, because I _knew_ it. I knew this place was real, this place of beauty and calmness. There's flowers, too, I can smell them in the air. Real flowers. I can't see them yet, but I know they're there.

"We did it!"

I yell, jumping into the air. Jack stares at me, slack jawed and smiling just as stupidly as I am. I jump into his arms, lost in the moment, we hug one another tightly. He spins me around, as we laugh, proud and happy. The second Jack stops spinning me, he sets me back down and kisses me, right on the lips.

At first I'm more shocked than anything. After a few split seconds, I start to enjoy it, and find myself kissing him back. I don't feel like I'm doing anything wrong, and that's a first. In fact, I find I really like kissing him. He's warm, his lips are soft, and he doesn't try to eat my face like a few other guys have. But even with all of Jack's good qualities, he's still no Charon.

Jack pulls away, blushing a bright red and smiling. He lets his arms fall awkwardly off of my body, as he steps away, nervous. Sometimes I wonder if he's as old as he says he is.

"Come on, let's get down there."

I tell him, pulling him down the hill with me. We have to put our feet out in front of us, keeping our bums on the ground, so that we don't tumble down head first. It's hard, bumpy, and giving me a bit of friction burn, but what awaits at the bottom is totally worth it. I can't stop laughing, smiling, giggling, as I slide down the hill. Even with the rocks scraping what bare skin I have showing, I can't help but smile. I knew it, knew it was real, knew it existed. And now look, here I am, just at the edge of it, at the edge of all the beautiful, warm green fields I could ever ask for.

I finally come to the bottom of the hill, and I sit on the dirt for a minute, soaking everything up. The air is warm, with a slight twinge of humidity. In the distance, I can hear what sounds like a river flowing steadily. I've never heard it sound so clear before, so crisp. The smells of all this newfound nature shit invades my senses but hell I don't care. The trees, they have real bark, it's brown and up their trunks they have real branches, with green, green leaves. The dirt is cool, soft under my bum and makes for a good bedding. I can see the fields ahead, through the trees. They look bright, inviting. I stand up, itching to move forward.

Jack lands beside me, and I help him up. We brush our backsides off and look around. Jack's eyes focus on something to our right, and he motions for me to follow.

"What is it?"

I get a little wry. As beautiful as this place is, it's very hidden, secluded. There could be danger. I grip my gun at my side as I light another cigarette. A warm breeze blows, and for some reason I shudder.

"There's something over here…"

Jack tells me, and I walk a bit closer to him. Not that he could ever protect me, though. He couldn't shoot the backside of a house for fuck's sake. I just want the security of thinking he could. As we walk closer, I see he's right. We come to a small town, a settlement. It looks like something out of the movies they'd make me watch in the vault. There's houses, pre-war houses, and shops. It gives me this creepy feeling, as we stand on the outskirts of it all. The people we see walking through, between the houses and shops, are all wearing pre-war clothes. Who would do that now? It seems…kind of pointless.

"This place creeps me out…"

I tell Jack, but he ignores me.

"I'm sure they're nice. Come on, let's check it out."

I don't argue, but I'm nervous. As we walk into the western-looking town, I feel all eyes on me. People stop, and stare at Jack and I like…like we're freaks. I feel a cold chill go up my spine, as I follow him through the narrow street.

"They're looking at us…"

I hiss into his ear. I've always hated people staring at me. Hated it. It makes me nervous, uncomfortable, anxious. My hand wraps securely around my gun as we reach the middle of the small town. A broken fountain that has strange things growing in it looms over me. It would be beautiful, had it only been here on its own. I look around, trying to avoid eye-contact. It feels like I'm stuck in a time warp. Like in this place, the war never happened. I don't like the feeling.

"Well hello there!"

I nearly jump as an old man approaches Jack and I. Jack is forward, smiling, shaking the mystery man's hand. Me? I'm smart. I keep my right hand on my gun, and a straight back, not smiling. I've seen enough of the world to know that no one can be trusted, especially in areas this odd.

"Name's Reverend Tucker. Who might your two outsiders be?"

He has an accent. Not like Charon's, but not like something I've heard before. It's long, drawling out words and his sentence.

"I'm Jack, and this is Dezbe."

I nod at Reverend Tucker, but don't take my guard down. He eyes me up and down, eyes my exposed muscle, and flinches at the sight of it.

"What brings you to our town? Haven't had any visitors in over…oh I'd say twenty some odd years."

Jack and Reverend Tucker talk. I remain silent. Twenty years? I mean, I know this place is kind of tricky to find, but anyone with a map and any sense of direction could find it. The people here…maybe I'm just being overly paranoid…but they seem very off. The houses look like…this place reminds me of Tranquility Lane. Too much to my liking, too.

"Why, y'all seem like decent folk. Why don't you come and follow me? Can set you up with a nice place to eat and sleep if you need."

Jack agrees, and I just follow them. Lingering behind, I notice a small child staring at me. His eyes don't look at me, it feels like he's looking _through_ me. I shudder, shaking my head as I follow Jack and Reverend Tucker through the doors of a saloon. It's kind of like what Moriarty's was to Megaton, only pre-war. All this pre-war makes me uncomfortable. Times have changed, it's not the same. People look at me, staring me down.

We head up a carpeted set of stairs, and I hear Reverend Tucker say something about his 'office'. I curl my nose at the smell of Whiskey, wondering how these people live. There doesn't seem to be any animal around that would be worth eating, or any real supply of drinking water. I'm sure there is out in the forest, or fields, but it doesn't look like anyone here hunts.

I'm led into a small room, with a red throw rug on the floor. Mahogany chairs are in front of a big, mahogany desk, and Jack and I sit down. I look at the books that line the shelves, not feeling any easier about the place. Reverend Tucker sits in a bit leather chair behind the desk, and folds his hands.

"Well. I must say having visitors isn't something this town is used to."

"No shit."

I scoff, hugging on my cigarette. When I catch Tucker's eyes, I notice he's angry. He's angry, but hiding it.

"Right, well, on to business."

He says, ignoring me. I put my hands on the desk, feeling the smoothness of it.

"Business?"

I ask, looking at him.

"Yes business. You two aren't married, are you?"

Married? Seriously people still do that shit? My jaw drops and I nearly choke on the smoke as I stifle a laugh.

"Married? Jack and I? Oh that's a funny thing. No, we aren't."

Tucker doesn't seem to share the same sense of humor as I do. He narrows his eyes at me, and I notice he has a bald spot on the back of his head. Old man.

"In order to stay here, you two are going to have to marry before you're allowed to live together. It is customary."

"It sounds like something from before the war."

Tucker slams his hands on his desk, making me jump. By instinct I grab my gun, but I don't pull it from its holster.

"Young lady you will _not_ mention that around here."

"What? Why? It happened, didn't it?"

"We like to believe it did _not_. We live in a quiet, peaceful community. We'd like to keep it that way."

Something tells me to just shut up. Just shut up and go along with whatever he has to say. From my experience, I know I can find out more things by just observing, than I ever could by asking. Luckily, Jack decides against Tucker's suggestion to marry me, and we are 'assigned' separate 'homes'. I have to live in a home for 'overage unwed women'. Meaning girls over the age of eighteen who haven't found someone to marry them, but can't move out because they aren't married. Jack, on the other hand, gets to live in his own little quaint pre-war house. I want to express my anger at this, because I have _way_ more knowledge and experience than Jack could ever dream of, but I don't. I bite my tongue.

I bite my tongue, and leave the saloon. Tucker walks me to the house I'm going to be staying in, and shakes my hand.

"Be warned girl, we do not allow unladylike behavior around these parts."

Desmond flashes in my mind. I'm frozen for an instant, but I nod anyways. This isn't like Desmond. This place…this place is different. It's creepy, and it doesn't like to admit the war happened. But, there is an upside. The fields of greens and flowers…aren't very far at all. I can see them from where I stand on the big, open porch.

"Well hi there! You must be Dezbe!"

I jump, turning around to see a girl staring at me. She has her hair done in ringlets, cinnamon brown, and her lips are painted a bright pink. Her pre-war dress is pretty, but nothing I could ever see myself wearing. She walks in pre-war heels, and smells like the vault for some reason. That musky, metallic smell.

"Yeah it's just Dez, though. Word travels fast…"

"You should come inside now, we have _so_ much to tell you!"

Against all the red flags in my head, I follow her. I follow her through the doorway, and into the house that gives me such strange, creepy vibes. I find myself really missing Charon right now, and really wishing he was here to help me figure this place out.


	25. Damsel in Distress

I lay on the grass, staring up at the perfect, bluest sky. It's the only place I can come and feel peaceful. The only place where no one watches every move I make. Here, out in the fields. I brush my hands over the blades of fresh grass, and smile as I inhale the smell of it. I come here almost all the time, when I can't stand the town anymore.

That town. They're insane. I've spend a goddamned week here, and I'm ready to go _insane_. If it wasn't for these fields, and the flowers that bloom here, and the amazing sense of peacefulness it offers, I'd have left forever ago. The people of this town…they don't ever believe a war happened. They say it's fiction, made up by the 'outsiders' to scare everyone. They told me that God did this to the earth for our sins. I play along with their nonsense, because I've noticed things.

When no one is looking, I often sneak into Tucker's office and swipe a book or two. A few pages into the first one I snatched, I realized they were _history_ books. Recorded from as far back as a hundred years. Apparently, this town is old, really old. Which means it's inbred, and after hearing about the inbred people of Andale in the Capital Wasteland, I know they're not to be trusted. The town was founded by Tucker's family, he doubles as the Mayor. They took a bunch of religious freaks and rebuilt this place from the ground up. Since then it's been here, nestled between the hills of whatever area I'm in.

At first, I figured it was okay. I mean, stress like the war makes people act in different ways. I thought this was a security blanket, like one would do to a child. Shelter them from the dangers of the world and whatnot. But then I read further into the town's history. People…mysteriously disappear. Outsiders would often find this place, just like Jack and I had, and they would live here for a time. Only, they'd disappear. I read that one person, Annabelle, started asking questions. Questions that made the townsfolk uneasy. She soon died of 'natural causes'. After reading that, I felt my stomach knot up.

She wasn't the only one to ask questions, then mysteriously die, either. There's a bunch of people on record for it. What really happened to them, I have yet to find out. I just know, asking questions is not a good idea. For the town's sake, it is a nice place to live, if you can get past the creepiness of it all. I should warn Jack not to ask questions, but getting him alone…that's the hard part. Boys and girls who aren't married aren't allowed unsupervised. It's strange, and I don't like it, but I deal with it.

Just like I deal with the things I have to do. The girls have been training me on how to be a 'good wife'. Which, I mean I don't mind because it's fun and I learnt how to cook, but I mean it's just odd. They dressed me up in this pre-war garb, and even make me do my hair and clean my face. Hell, I even have to wear makeup. It's not so bad, though, to see how pretty I can be, but my feet hurt from the heels. I take them off whenever I come to the fields. I sit here, watching the clouds, reading. It's relaxing, peaceful. I'd really like to come out at night, but the town has a curfew. I don't know what happens if you break the curfew, but I sure as hell don't want to find out.

My gun is kept in my room, but I took all the bullets out of it. I'm smart, I know. I stashed the bullets inside my mattress once I learnt how to sew. They're kept in a small bag, tucked away right under my pillow, in case I need to cut it open for some reason. I'm very cautious around here, careful, cautious, and always thinking.

"Hi."

I hear a soft, familiar voice coo. Looking behind me, I notice one of the girls I live with, Susie, coming towards me. Susie is nice, with thick, long dark hair. Her and I have become kind of close. I sense sometimes she has the same questions and fears as I do, but won't express them. Every once in a while, when she talks, I feel like it's code for something. She comes and sits beside me in the grass just as a soft breeze passes through me.

"Hey."

I haven't really adapted to the ladylike slang everyone else here seems to have.

"What are you doing out here all by yourself?"

I shrug, and light a cigarette. Surprisingly, a lot of the women here smoke. I guess they have to allow some comforts.

"Thinking. I come here to relax, to think."

Susie takes off her shoes, and runs her fingers through her thick bangs.

"You _always_ come here. I see you sneaking off."

I smile at her, leaning back on my palms.

"Yeah well, it's the only place I find I can really relax in."

Susie looks at me, a spark in her eye and a smirk on her red lips.

"You know, Dez, some of the men in town have been talking about asking for your hand in marriage."

I burst out laughing. Shaking my head, I look at her as I inhale smoke.

"No. No way. I'm not the marrying type."

"What? But you _have_ to marry! It's like…a sin not to."

"Naw. Not me. I don't…really like anyone here."

I look away, a bit saddened. My mind wanders to thoughts and memories of Charon. When I come here to think, it's usually about him. I thought by now…he'd have shown up. Susie nudges me with her elbow to get my attention back, and I look at her.

"You like someone else, don't you?"

"Huh?"

"Come on, Dez. We _all_ know you come from the outside. So is there some outside boy? You waiting for him?"

I smirk, letting out a slight chuckle. She's right, in a certain way, I guess.

"Well…I mean…kind of."

Susie squeals, and begs me to spill the beans. Somehow I think I trust her enough to. I start to tell her about Charon. Just him, really, nothing of the events or the actions. I tell her how he made me feel, how I care about him, how he said he loved me and I was expecting him to come find me. I don't tell her, though, that he's a ghoul. I am very careful to leave that, and anything else to do with the world outside, alone.

"I'm sure he'll come for you."

Susie is optimistic, a bit too much for my liking, but hell each to their own. I shrug, stubbing out my third cigarette, and look up at the setting sun.

"Yeah, maybe. I mean, it's been a while."

"But you should still consider the other men in town. It's sweet you want to wait but…"

Susie's voice trails off, as she stares out into the distance. I follow her gaze, she looks at nothing. This place…this place is creepy, dangerous and spooky all at once. It keeps me up at night and I watch everything I say and every movement I make but…but it's beautiful. Out here, away from the town and everyone, in this field of green, green grass, I've never felt more at ease. The sun rises over the grassy knolls, and sets on the far side of town. It's beautiful, and I'd put up with anything in the world to just sit here forever. No threats, abundant food, warm sun, perfect. I swear I can hear a stream off in the distance, but I don't try to investigate. There's too many people watching me, and they'd think I was trying to leave. I don't want to think about what happens, to the people who try to leave this place.

"Are you hungry, Dez?"

Susie's voice causes me to look at her. Brushing a loose strand of hair out of my face, I inhale on my cigarette. Eventually, I know, I'm going to snap on these people. Although more mature, I am still Dezbe.

"What? No, no not hungry."

"You haven't eaten all day. Come on I'll show you how to bake a cake."

Susie stands, and offers me her hand. I don't do girlie things like prance merrily hand-in-hand into the kitchen. I'm a gun-toting maniac, not a baker of any sorts.

"Uh, no I'd rather stay here, thanks."

"Come on, you're going to need to learn before you get married."

"What happens if you _don't_ marry here, anyways?"

Susie gets quiet. Her hand drops and she looks down at her feet.

"…You have until twenty-seven to marry…"

"And then…?"

"Reverend Tucker takes you in for a 'talk', but…you never come out."

A bolt of fear strikes through me for a quick instant. Never come out? Does that mean he kills them or…or banishes them? Hell I _dare_ him to banish me. I'll come back here with a goddamned Fat Boy and _really_ show him what post-apocalyptic looks like. I glance up at Susie, tears trail down her face.

"What you cryin' for?"

I ask, maybe a bit too harsh.

"They took my best friend three weeks ago…I didn't…get to say goodbye."

It doesn't bother me, as she cries. I've seen enough in my own life to know that you can't waste time on…on other people. Standing up, I nudge her with my elbow.

"Stop blubbering. I have some things to do in town, lets go."

Susie doesn't argue, but she follows me. We walk across the field, heading towards town. What business do I have? Business with Reverend Tucker. I plan on…shit I can't. I can't ask questions. Not yet, no. But maybe…just maybe…Jack knows some things I don't. If I can only get him alone…

We get back into town, and instantly I start seeking out Jack. He isn't too hard to find, he's where all the guys usually are, at the pub. I walk in, smoke hitting me, the smell of cheap liquor hitting me harder. I kind of fumble in the heels I have to wear, not my first choice in footwear.

Walking over to Jack, I tug on his arm. He looks down at me, a bit surprised.

"Dez? What are you doing in here?"

"I need to talk to you."

All eyes fall on me. Like I'm some sort of…well I don't know what but I don't like it. Jack looks around the bar nervously, and then nods. He slides off of his barstool, and I lead him through the doors. We're not supposed to be alone together, but fuck that. I have questions that I need answers to. Jack follows me past the town center, past the house I stay at, towards the outskirts of town where we first entered. I pull him behind a large tree, and cross my arms.

"Dez we could get in a lot of trouble for meeting like this…"

Jack tells me, glancing through some leaves and branches that cover us.

"Fuck that. Listen, do you have any idea what goes on here?"

To my surprise, Jack nods. He slowly looks at me, his face weighed down with regret, I think.

"You have to marry me, or someone Dez, or they'll…"

"What? Make me disappear? I dare them to try."

"Dez, you're forgetting you have _no weapon_. I'll be the first to admit, you're one dangerous being with a weapon, but here…Dez here you're just defenseless, just like me."

I cross my arms. If I'm anything, it's not 'defenseless'.

"Again, fuck that. I'm just as good without a weapon as I am with one. You, you've always been a pussy."

Jack stifles a laugh, and looks nervously through the leaves again.

"All play aside, Dezbe, you're outnumbered. Hell _we're_ outnumbered."

"Numbers mean nothing."

"Are you seriously thinking of trying to escape? Dez they'll kill you."

"No. I'm banking on something else. I give it another week and if nothing, I still have my gun, and bullets. If anything I can get a few of 'em before going down."

"Dez, just play along. Marry someone, be happy, bake for fucks sake! Hell I don't care but _don't _be stupid."

I smirk at Jack, glaring at the town through the leaves.

"You don't know me very well, Jack. I don't 'play along' with anything I don't like."

"This time you have to. And wait a minute, what are you banking on?"

"Charon."

Jack's jaw drops and he slaps himself in the forehead.

"Dez…you didn't…you told him where we were going, didn't you? Oh why'd you do that, Dez?"

"I didn't."

"Oh thank god…I was thinking he'd know where to find you."

"I didn't _tell_ him anything. I left him a map. He should have been here by now, but I'm thinking certain elements probably got in the way of him coming."

"You're shitting me."

I look at Jack stupidly. What? Why is he acting so surprised?

"What?"

I ask him, a bit defensive.

"Dez I thought you were _over_ him…"

"What?"

"I thought…look Dez forget it, he's not coming."

Jack steps towards me, but I step back.

"No, tell me."

I demand, now curious.

"I just…thought you'd finally gotten over him…"

"…There's no easy answer to that, you know."

"I thought you and I could…"

I sigh. People aren't supposed to like me. This is one of the main reasons I had to get out of New Vegas. People started to like me, hell even love me. I can't deal with that. In my mind, there always has been, and for right now always will be, Charon.

"Jack, stop. Right now we need to make a plan…figure out how to get out of here and…"

"Shut up!"

He yells. It makes me jump a bit. To be honest I've never seen Jack mad, let alone _yell_. He grabs my wrist, and pulls me close to him.

"Goddamn you, Dezbe."

Without another word, he drags me from the trees and back to the town.

"What are you doing? Let me go!"

I yell, tugging at him. Jack ignores me, and everyone stares. It just makes me angrier, madder, I _hate_ people staring.

"Jack stop it!"

I finally pull myself free of his grip, but not before Reverend Tucker comes out of the pub. He walks over to Jack and I, all business.

"What's going on here? Is there reason for your hands on an unmarried woman?"

Jack looks back at me as I rub my wrist. I see the anger in his eyes, the vengeance.

"She tried to escape."

"What? No I didn't! No fucking way!"

I yell, stomping my foot. Reverend Tucker, however, ignores me. He turns to Jack, seemingly concerned.

"Is that true?"

"Yes. I caught her. She tried to get me to go with her."

Tucker shakes his head in disapproval.

"I always knew letting outsiders in was a mistake…women especially. They often have rebellious minds. Dez, come with me."

"What? Hell no!"

He grabs my upper arm, and Jack grabs my other.

"Let me go!"

I yell, kicking, screaming, thrashing around as they drag me. I even play dead-weight, but it doesn't work. Jack and Tucker drag me inside the pub and all the men stare at me. Some of them have knowing smirks, and some are nodding in approval. A select few seem…saddened by it. I let my heels drag behind me as they take me to a room behind the bar. Inside the room is another, smaller room with bars. A cell. A fucking literal cell.

"In you go, Dez."

Tucker says, as he and Jack hoist me inside. Not without a fight I don't. As they lift me up, I start to kick, snarl, scream, thrash in any way possible. It's no help, they get me inside, and shut the barred door behind me. Hell at least I can say I tried, right? I turn and grab the bars, they're cold, the room smells of decay and rot. The walls are gray, concrete, with no windows. A dingy mat on the floor substitutes as a bed.

"What the _fuck_?"

I yell, trying to shake the door. It doesn't budge. Tucker nods at Jack, and he leaves. Leaving me alone with Tucker.

"You'll await in here until your trial."

"Trial? What fucking trial? I didn't do anything!"

Tucker shakes his head in front of me, pacing.

"Escape is a very serious crime here, Dezbe. We don't take it lightly."

"I didn't try to escape!"

"Jack says you did, and that's all the evidence I need. I knew you were bad news the second you stumbled in here. It was just a matter of time before you…well, before you acted up. Enjoy your stay, trial dates are known to be slow."

He ignores me screams as he walks out. I scream still, even after the door is shut. I yell and hit the hard walls, trying to annoy the hell out of everyone in the bar. Eventually, though, my voice goes hoarse, and I quiet down. I can't believe it. This situation, this place. Granted I've gotten myself out of worse, much worse, but the fear is still there. The fear of not knowing if I'll get out, if I'll die here, or if anyone will bother to even feed me.

Shaking my head, I keep my thoughts level. I have to stay calm, if I want any chance of escape. Looking at the lock on the door, I smile. It's simple, easy, I could pick it in a second. But…I have no bobby pins. Looking around the room, I find I don't even have a small rock to use as a slight weapon. All I have is the mat, and that doesn't look like it'll do much good.

"Well fuck me…"

I grumble as I sit down in the car corner, furthest from the door. This was supposed to be a trip of fun and freedom, not this. Not getting caught up in a cult town, and then tossed into a cell. I don't even have a radio to keep my mind busy. There's no signal out here, nothing, no music or anything. Sighing, I press my head against the wall. All I have to bank on now, is Charon.

Charon. Yeah. Like he'd ever fucking leave Lily's side. I actually need him right now, which is the ironic twist to it. The _one_ real time I need him, I bet you ten bucks he's not going to show. And even if he does, they'll lie to him. If they don't kill him on sight, that is. I doubt anyone here has ever heard of a ghoul, let alone seen one. Shit. I guess just hoping he'll come won't be so bad. But then when he doesn't and in time I'm taken to trial, I'll feel pretty abandoned. I'll have to sit here, then, and use this free time as my advantage. I'll have to…make a plan, to get out. To do _something_ to get out. If only…I had…_something_.


	26. Return to Me, Salvation

"Row row row your boat!"

I scream at the top of my lungs.

"Gently down the stream! Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily, life is but a dream!"

I could have been in here for hours, or days or weeks. With no way to tell time, since my Pip-Boy doesn't even work in this town for some reason, I can't figure how many hours have passed. In between undetermined amounts of sleep, and the inconsistent times someone comes in to give me scraps of food, I lost track. Keeping tallies probably would have been a good idea, but hell I didn't think of that. Even if I did, though, how would I know when to tally?

Sighing, I fumble with the buckles on my heels. I've been figuring out ways to use the metal on them as a weapon. Sure, it's a small weapon, but that's what I need. Something small, easy to hide, something I can use to my advantage. How, exactly, it's supposed to be a weapon, I don't know. I just know it's something, and something is usually better than nothing.

"I'm fucking hungry in here!"

I scream. The bar has been unusually quiet today. Most of the time, I can hear the voices of men, hear them laughing and drinking and talking. Today, unless it's night, I haven't heard anything. I don't think it's night, though, because when someone came to give me food, I saw light. So, that wasn't more than an hour or so ago. It wasn't dusk, either, so the sun is definitely still up. I know no one will bring me more food, but it gives me something to scream about, anyways.

"Can anyone hear me!"

To my surprise, the door opens. I cover my eyes with my arm and look away. The sun hurts, since I've been in the dark. The door closes, but I know I'm not alone. Quietly, I back myself into the far corner of the cell, and wait.

"Dez?"

Jack. Fucking Jack.

"What the _fuck_ do you want?"

I hiss at him. I hear him pacing in front of the door. Maybe he had a change of heart, and told Tucker that I wasn't trying to escape. Not yet, anyways.

"You _fucked_ up, Dezbe."

"Me? Oh how the hell did I do that? I'm in a fucking _cell_ I can't do much you know."

His shoes make a ticking sound on the hard floor. I try not to focus on it, and instead concentrate on his response.

"You led him here! You brought him here! The _only_ place in the world where it's safe!"

He grabs the door, shaking it violently. Of course the door doesn't budge, but it does make a sharp metallic noise. I stand, my back sliding up the wall. I feel my heart pounding in my chest. Charon. Jack has to be talking about him.

"He's here, isn't he?"

I ask, coyly.

"Yes."

"And he's looking for me?"

"Yes."

"He saw you?"

"Yes."

"…And he has a gun?"

"He has gun_s_. Because of you, this town is in jeopardy! Because of _you_!"

I plan quickly forms in my mind, and I walk to the door. Putting my hands through the bars, I lightly graze Jack's hand.

"Then bring me to him. He'll take me, and we'll leave this town alone."

"It's not like that, Dez. You need a trial. People don't just come and go here as they please."

Glancing past him, I notice the door is opened just a crack. Hardly a crack, but a thin, small, hardly there light beams through. It's _something_. I have to make do with what I have, since my options are very, very limited.

"Well, then I guess you, and everyone else in the town, can put their heads between their knees and kiss their asses goodbye."

"What? What are you getting at?"

Smiling sweetly, I softly take Jack's hands in mine. I bring them to my lips, giving him as seductive of a look as someone like me can muster. My luck, he's fooled by it. Men, so typical. Tits are accepted everywhere, just like caps. Jack's eyes follow mine, he's not paying attention to what I could do, what I _can_ do, what I _am_ going to do. I wrap my hands around two of his fingers, and give him the deadliest look.

"You're a fucking idiot, Jack."

I say, before I break his two fingers. His screams of pain echo through my cell, echo through the bar. He crumples to the ground, but I hold fact onto his hands.

"_Bring him here!"_

I hiss, and Jack shakes his head.

"Fuck you, then."

I say, breaking another finger. The sound of broken bones surpasses that of his cries. It brings me a sick, twisted sense of pleasure. A cold sweat breaks out on his forehead, and I begin to wonder what I ever saw in such a pitiful man. At least Charon would have fought back, would have hit me through the bars. Jack…Jack just took his punishment. He took it in stride, and that's really fucking stupid. I finish breaking the fingers on his left hand, and I take his right. H glares up at me, whimpering, blubbering like a beaten dog.

"…Don't…"

He mutters, panting.

"Then go get him."

I see the fear in his eyes. Cries and gunshots from outside scare me, worry fills my mind. Looking back down at Jack, I give him his hand back.

"If you don't come back, I'll fucking kill you as slow as humanly possible."

Although my threat is pretty empty, because I'm stuck here, Jack nods. He curls himself into a ball, crawling away from the bars. Opening the false-wall that leads to the door that leads to the bar, he dashes, cradling his broken hand against his chest. If Charon sees him, he'll chase him. He'll notice his hand, and know I did it. I'm putting all my trust, in something so volatile.

The chances of Jack actually getting his shit together and finding Charon for me are slim. The chances of Charon seeing Jack and noticing the broken fingers was caused by me, is slim. But I don't have any other option. I can scream till my voice is hoarse, till blood comes spewing out, but I know no one will hear me. I can make as much noise as possible, noise that will go unheard. My only hope is Jack tells him where I am, before anything happens.

More gunshots. I try to recognize them, but they're too muffled. We're outnumbered. Charon's strong, well-trained, powerful. But…against this many people, I wonder if he's strong enough. I wonder, if he'll be able to survive this. My hands grip at the bars that hold me, I'm holding on so tight that my knuckles turn white. I can't hide the concern on my face, as shadows move below at my feet.

"Charon!"

I can't yell any louder, as I rattle the cage bars. Glancing down, I notice the small weapon I've been creating. A small razor, strategically carved from the metal buckle on my heel. It's small, it's useless, but I can use it. I pick it up, hiding it in my palm. With my free hand, I pick up my other shoe, and toss it between the cracks in the slightly open doors. I'm hoping the force will make it swing open just a bit, just enough for me to see outside. Lucky for me, the door _does_ move, but only like, a millimeter. It's not enough. Not nearly enough.

"Charon!"

I scream once more, remembering. I remember all the times I've cried his name, all the times he's come to my rescue. Picking up me, the damsel in distress, saving me from Talons when he really didn't like me. Saving me from Raiders when he really hated me. Saving me from myself, when he really didn't know me. Violently, I shake the bars again, crying out and wailing like a wounded fucking animal. They go unnoticed. No one cares, no one notices, as shadows and figures rush past the door. I don't think they've seen a ghoul here before. I don't think they…know what to do. Worst case scenario, Charon gets rushed. Best case scenario, he has the weapons to fight it, and he finds someone who'll tell him where I am.

I watch as a shadow grows closer to me. It reaches the bottom of my bare feet, right where my toes begin, before I look up. I'm excited, overwhelmed, gripping the bars in anticipation.

"You bitch."

Scratch all those happy feelings and kindly replace ones of 'what the fuck' and 'oh shit'. Reverend Tucker stands in front of me, blood dripping down the side of his old and withered face.

"Where is he?"  
I demand, shaking the rickety steel bars. Tucker goes to take a swipe at me through the bars, but I back up far enough to avoid contact.

"You ruined _everything_!"

"Maybe if you didn't lock me up in here, this shit wouldn't have happened! Where is he?"

He won't tell me, and that's what causes my worry, my panic. Tucker looks at me through the bars, the door open wide behind him. I can't see anything past the bar, I can't see outside. All I can see are shadows and sunlight.

"We've taken good care of him. You just _keep quiet_."

I can't tell if he's lying, but none of that matters.

"No! No you tell me right now!"

Tucker laughs. He fucking _laughs_ as he leaves the room, closing and locking the door behind him. I'm alone again, in darkness darker than dark.

"No!"

I scream. I can't control myself. I let my small weapon drop from my palm, as I beat the concrete walls with my puny fists. I wail, wounded, hurt, worried, alone and scared. I don't stop screaming and pounding until blood trickles down to my elbows, my ruined hands stinging. Dragging them down the wall, I press myself against it. Grime, filth, dirt rubs on my face, but I don't care. I don't. Memories flash in my mind. They flash like the time they returned to me, and I remembered who I was. It hurts, and I cry out as I kneel on the ground, pitifully pounding the wall still.

His touch, his embrace, his scent…it all wraps around me like a comforting blanket. A blanket that comes with a hole. As warm and inviting as the memories are, I know it'll never be again. Knowing that I'll never feel him against me, beside me, next to me, unless he finds me, kills me. I should have stayed at the tower. I shouldn't have ever come here. Charon was right. I didn't know Jack. I didn't know he'd betray me, know he'd sell me out. I just wanted someone to trust, someone to take me out of the place I was in. I don't know if it'll be okay, if I'll make it out alive, if Charon's okay. I want him to be. Even if I never get out of here, if I rot and die in this place, that's fine. It's fine, so long as Charon is alive, so long as _he_ gets out. I've never added anything good to this world. All I've ever done are bad things. Releasing Charon from his contract, giving him life and emotions and experience, it's the good thing. The one good thing I've feel I've done all on my own.

I don't care about my efforts. I don't care about the clean water, I couldn't have done that without help. But Charon…Charon I helped without anyone else. It was just me. His voice in my ear, as I remember the crumbling pile of rubble. 'Hold on,' he said, as I clung to him for dear life. As he dove, keeping me safe, protected. I should have stayed at the tower.

"Charon…"

I mutter, tears falling into a shallow pool onto the floor. My fists fall beside me, onto the floor. They throb in pain, blood gently flowing out of them. I have nothing left. Muffled noise from outside doesn't even jolt me. Silenced gunshots, stifled cries, it's silent where I am. Quiet, and silent, as I realize for the first time in my life, I'm defeated. At least at Fort Bannister, I had a way out. There was always a factor in escape. Here? Here I don't even know where to begin. In pitch blackness, with no real source of light or knowledge, I can't do anything. Even with Desmond, I had an escape, I just didn't take it. This is the only time I'm helpless, the only time I've felt so trapped.

Rubbing my eyes, I place my hands flat on the ground. I begin to feel around for the small razor I've carved. If nothing else, I have one thing left. One last out. My fingertips graze it, and I sigh with relief. I was worried in my fit, I might have knocked it out of my cell, beyond reach. Fitting it back into my palm, I look towards the bars. I can't see them. All I can see is the small beam of light that emits from the bottom of the door. I don't know if Charon's alive. I don't know if he's okay. I won't ever know. They could tell me he's dead, when really they told him I was somewhere else. He could have left, or he could have been ambushed. I should have held Jack as hostage, so then _someone_ would have come. I didn't, though. I banked on something that had too slim of a chance of happening.

I still have one way out, though. One, failsafe way. Leaning against the bars, I don't cry. I don't sob, as I toy with the small razor in my hand, feeling gently with my fingertips where the sharp edge is. Drastic, yeah. Caring? No. I can't stand being here another day, without knowing, without…Shaking my head I sigh. As much as I want to, I can't. I can't, because there's still a hint of Charon left inside of my mind. I remember when we first met. Staring down the barrel of his shotgun, taunting him to shoot me. He didn't, though. I can't help but think now, if he had, how much easier both our lives would have been.

Picking myself up, I stretch my arms through the bars, leaning on them. I figure it's worth it. Worth one last ditch effort.

"Charon! Charon! Charon!"

I scream, my echoes and sound deafening me. I rattle the bars as I scream, kick them, shake them, like a wild Yao Guai. I make as much noise as possible in one, big attempt. Then I stop. I stop, and carefully listen, my eyes fixated on a moving shadow at the bottom of the door. To my dismay, it vanishes, whatever it was, it's gone now. Defeated, I let my hands slide down the bars, let my knees touch the floor, my head between my elbows. This should be the end, I suppose. The end of me, really. The end of Charon and I. The end of all these emotions. I guess I was meant to die like this, alone, unknown. What I wouldn't give to change it, though.

Closing my eyes, I remember who I once was. The arrogant, naïve, nineteen-year-old girl who…who left the vault in search of an absent father. Who along the way, did things most people would cringe at. Killed without remorse, killed without regard. Stole, cheated, lied. Forever ago, I was someone fearless. I should have known better. I should have stayed alone, and never went back into the Ninth Circle. Not once in my life, did I ever need the soft words of comfort from anyone, from anything. But…then I met Charon.

Those nights we spent, wasting our time and energy hating one another. Those cold, lonely nights we spent huddled by pitiful fires, as he ripped the meat from a freshly killed Molerat. I would watch him with such an interest. He fed me, kept me alive, kept me safe. I still have the scars from him. They're hardly noticeable, now, but the one on my thigh…the bubble from the Talon weapon…that's still there. I don't know how or why, but it is. Like a nasty reminder. A reminder of how we came to be.

Tears fall from my eyes, as I stay motionless. Memories flood my mind as if it's a vault movie on constant play. I remember how I woke up in the Chop Shop, after receiving an accidental bullet from Quinn. Charon…Charon he stayed by me that night. He stayed by my side, watching me, waiting for me to wake up. Then when I got sick, he stayed and cared for me. Wrapped me in his strong, powerful arms, and kept the bad things away. What I wouldn't give, to feel those arms around me once again. Who knew now, that looking back I'd cherish each and every moment Charon and I had together, no matter how pitiful or minuscule it was. All I ever wanted was him. It's true, you know. I knew it, even before I wanted to admit it.

Moving my fingers lightly in the air, I mimic the way he'd play pretend with me. We'd pretend there was a piano in front of us, a childish comfort, as our fingers pressed down on imaginary keys. Charon would sing 'Hallelujah' and I'd hum the sultry tune. I never got to _really_ show him what I could play. I never…I never got to do a lot of things I wanted to with him. But as I sit, moving my fingers, remembering that tearful song, I realize that before Charon…I didn't know anything. I didn't.

The song, if I remember, talks of how love isn't a victory march. That it's cold, it's broken. Against the cold, the deformed, the broken world that everyone now calls home, Charon and I became. In the dark, against the moon, with the stars serving as a billion tiny eyes, they watched as we found something. Something that's hard, rare, and…special. At the time, each intimate moment was a certain kind of special to me…but…but now I see how special it actually was. I see now, how as a whole, how tragic and doomed it was all from the very beginning.

The first time Charon and I ever had sex, was in a decrepit, old, pre-war house. Two lovers' skeletons laid on the bed, intertwined, clinging to one another. We had fought just moments before, angry, harsh, vulgar words spewing from our mouths with no mercy. That night…that night I learned what everything really was. What I felt for him, what girls talked about, what people on Three Dog's station sang about. Love. Yeah, that. I learned it that night, under Charon's rugged, ripped, and rough body. Beneath his heavy breathing, and in between kisses that were so passionate I thought it would kill me.

I wish it did. I wish it did kill me. That I died right then and there, entangled in his arms. If I had, none of this, none of the events that followed that wonderful night, would have happened. I could have drifted off into the afterworld, with that as my last memory. I guess, though, in a sense I did die that night. I lost a piece of myself with him. Something I'll never get back, something that even in five years of absence, Charon still holds. He has it forever, too, until his dying breath. Knowing this…realizing this now…I can't help myself anymore.

Sobbing, I let go of the bars, and press my palms against the floor. I never should have left, never should have went and gone in search for something. All along, I've had everything I could ever want. Right beside me, the entire time. I was too stupid, too immature to realize it, though. Fuck. I wish I wasn't. If I could go back and change it all, I would. I'd stay with Charon, in Underworld. I'd stay with him, until…until I don't know. In my mind, that sad, beautiful song plays. The song we played together, the song that defined us back then. I never wanted to see this world for how it was. I always wanted to live in this fantasy. The fantasy that in the end, I'd win. I'd be happy, and there'd be something, I don't know what, but something at the end of the tunnel for us. Memories flood and invade my mind and I can't stop them. Words, phrases, moments and instances we once shared take over me. I threw it all away. For what? For this? For nothing. Nothing at all.

Taking in a deep breath, I open my eyes, and stare down into the blackness. Not even the thin beam of light that shines in through the cracks in the door can brighten this room. Muffled sounds from outside grow quiet, as I pick my head up and peer around. My hair is matted down. My eyes have bags under them I'm sure. With the lack of sun and food, I feel my skin withering and showing age older than it should. My hands are clammy, and my knees are scabby. There's a nasty taste in my mouth, and my body craves nicotine. I've lost track of time in here, I didn't bother to even try. My Pip-Boy feels so heavy on my arm. I did my best, but it wasn't much. It wasn't anything. I ran away, in the hopes that Charon would follow. In hopes he'd come to my rescue, and we could run away together.

How foolish. Foolish of me to…to think that this plan would have worked. I should know me by now, and know that nothing with me is ever as simple as that. Known, that this town was dangerous. I never should have gone to Jack, never should have even stayed here. But…but I wanted to wait for Charon so badly…that I didn't think. Five years ago, I made the mistake that took me to all of this. Took me to a place I'd never been, took me to parts of my mind that I hadn't even known existed. In New Vegas, I'd reminisce about Charon. I'd remember all the adventures, all the trouble, and all the sweet, tender moments that led up to us being, well, us.

The first time I cried, I went to him. We had spent nights arguing, fighting, letting one another know that the other was…unwanted. But that night…that night something was different. I remember it so clearly. Megaton, and its beautiful string of white, round lights. They decorated the town, made it sparkle. Against the backdrop of the decrepit, steel, makeshift buildings, and the glow of the sparkling lights, with the warm night air for comfort, I fell into Charon. I went into his arms, and cried, cried so hard I thought I might burst. He wrapped his arms around me, assuring me time and time again, that he wouldn't leave. He was right, back then. He never left my side for more than a few days, out of anger or spite. He always came back, and in the end it was me who left. Me, who turned my back on it all. Me.


	27. Until You Love Me

(Charon)

I stop the truck for the night, and get out. I left in such a rush, a hurry, I didn't have time to think. To actually go over my choices and actions. Lily knows, it's obvious why I left, obvious what caused me to fall in such an impulsive fury. I hadn't…intended to chase her. Intended to ever chase her again. I left…for reasons I can't fathom.

Times like this, make me reflect on the past six years. Not five, where Dez has been gone, but six. Six, for the year she was with me before, for the time…where I proved dutifully where my heart laid, where my loyalties laid. Lighting a cigarette, I stretch my legs beneath the bright moon of the desert. Six years ago, Dez lost herself. Six years ago, I devoted myself to keeping her safe, to helping her remember. I held her hand, held her close. It was I, who traveled out of the burning Citadel, dragging my half-dead body from the flames, from the ashes, fighting the pain of sickness and burns…for her name.

Six years ago, I held her helpless body in my arms, as she cried. Cried of frustration and worry, cried, for the memories she couldn't remember. Six and a half years ago, I held her close, as two lovers entwined on an abandoned bed. As two people shared the intimate secrets of the most holiest expression of love. I kissed her lips, as her sweaty body rested against my own, as she tore all I ever knew from my mind. And…five years ago…I watched her leave Underworld.

I watched as she took her first steps. Watched, as the anger inside of me grew, evolved, as she got further and further away until the doors blocked her from my view. Five years ago, I watched the one being I've felt so much for, endured for, survived for, fought for, and sacrificed everything for, walk out of my life. Her wild, orange, red, and brown hair vanished, the curves of her body left me. Five years ago, I remember thinking, that it couldn't be the end. That I'd never feel so cold as sad, as I did on that day. Thinking she was dead never compared. I knew she was alive, knew she was leaving, and knew it was her choice. Knowing all that…killed me.

A week ago, I kissed her. I felt her body with mine, acting upon feelings of love and lust that I thought were so long dead. I kissed her, as I balanced our bodies against the old gate of Tenpenny Tower. Her breath, fresh on my face, her lips, moist on mine. In the heat of the moment, heat of her tugging at me, her moans of ecstasy and pleasure, I admitted something that six years ago, I wouldn't ever admit. I admitted I loved her. Admitted I always have, always will. She made me feel like I was the only being left in the world, as her body pressed perfectly against mine, as she kissed me with ever fiber in her being. Four years ago, I met Lily.

I'm trying. I'm trying to do the best I can. I'm trying the hardest I can to make do with what I have. Right now, I still have Lily and her small child to care for. Right now, I'm en route to once again, chase the woman I've always loved. This…will be the final time. I have chased Dez since the day we met. Allowed only once, for her departure. She didn't come back, for five years. It was the only time I didn't chase her, the only time she didn't return just weeks later, seeking me out. It was over, then. Over, when the first year passed. Over, when Lily entered my life. No, no perhaps it was over before then.

It was the night I admitted to wanting to stay in Underworld, and help rebuild it. Protect it. It was then, that whatever was between Dez and I ended. I was no longer offering to follow her, but rather, have her follow me. She couldn't take it. Couldn't take not being chased, not being the center of someone's world, and in her mind, she ended it. But in mine…in mine I had hope. Hope, that once we returned Zack to Gob and came to Underworld, she would chase me.

When I find her, I will stubbornly bring her home, to the Capital Wasteland, and I will forget. There can no longer be an 'us'. Dez and I…have changed. As much as I want to make myself believe that this world spins slowly, spins for us, I cannot. I have things, responsibilities, that I can not place above her any longer. I did that for nearly two years, I can't anymore. It's not that I love Lily more than Dez, love has nothing to do with this. Morals, are what have to do with everything. I cannot just simply uproot my entire life, my entire being, once more for the care and affection of Dez. It's crazy. What can I say? Tell Lily that I must cast her aside because someone from my past has returned? No, no I can't.

The wind blows the smoke from my mouth as I exhale. I am not tired, but I don't feel like driving anymore. Jamming my hand in my pocket, I flick some ash from my cigarette as I kick a rock in the distance. For the last time in my life, I am chasing her. I am running after Dez, in hopes she'll return with me. In hopes, the dreams I have at night, will stay dormant in my mind. In hopes that now she'll leave, and stay gone forever. What was between us was in the past, but I let my foolish self fall back into it. I knew, when Roy and I were returning to Point Lookout for her, that I'd lost myself to her once more. But…when she looks at me, with that look in her eyes, and the hope in her voice…I remember.

I remember meeting her for the first time. Remember tending carefully to her wounds, and watching her as she uneasily slept by the fires I had made. I would watch her, and think of her as this intricate and curious creature. This creature, who would chop the heads off of children given the chance, but then would turn around and give her last Purified Water to you. She drove me insane, angered me, enraged me…and softened me. When she caved in from this world, it was me she ran to. Me. It was me, who kept all her insecurities at bay. Me, who fought with her, hit her, and then two seconds later held her gingerly in my arms, scared I might break her.

It dawns on me, as I stand, staring out at the silver dirt mounds. It all comes into light. Dezbe did not share everything of her past with me, as we all have secrets, but somehow…I became something to her. That even when we hated one another and fought constantly, I became her savior. I can't imagine her having any friends as a child. I can't imagine someone like Dezbe even finding a confidant. But…she found me. I suppose I was the closest thing to a friend she's ever had, she ever will have. Even when she would scream that she hated me, that she wanted to die and the world sucked, she knew I would be there. I would be there to pick the pieces up, and beg her to stay.

Tears form in my eyes, as I kick myself in the mental ass. It's taken me five years, to realize just how much I've come to mean to this girl. Even when she left for New Vegas, heading West with nothing but her Pip-Boy and shotgun, I meant something to her. She wanted me to chase her, expected it, even. And it was the only time I didn't. Look where it got me. Perhaps if I had gone, things now would have been entirely different. I would not be standing here, in the desert, with a crudely drawn map, chasing her down. I would not be worried about her, worried, that the Jack fellow she ran off with has done something terrible.

I will reach her, wherever she is. I will take her back to the tower, kicking and screaming, and tell her on the way we are over. There will be no more instances, moments where words escape up as we fall into the old ways of fighting and fucking. That now, it is in the past, and she must truly learn to live without me, as I have learned to live without her. It pains me, to think of this conversation, to wonder what may happen next, but I shake my head. I toss my cigarette into the dirt, and climb back into the truck.

Glancing down, I cock an eyebrow at the map Dez left for me. There's markings on it. Markings, I hadn't noticed before. Picking it up, I gently rub my fingers over the paper, curious. Reaching into my pocket I pull out my lighter. Carefully, I light it under the paper. Pale, white lettering appears inside of the yellowed paper. At first I assume it's an imprint from whomever manufactured the paper, eons ago. But seeing my name, changes my mind. Since when does Dezbe know how to utilize this form of…of coding? My heart races, as my eyes scan the letters, the words that soon make sentences.

_Charon...follow me, just once more. Follow me, and I'll follow you, until you love me._

She once said that to me, as we travelled back from Fort Independence, towards home. She said it, but never held up her end of the bargain. Now…now I do not believe it. Perhaps back then I did, but not know. I know her now, know that she will simply run off again. I can no longer chase her. I simply can't. Dez has not been my concern for five years, why should all of a sudden I allow her to be now?

I'll tell you why. Because I love her. I have always loved her. If I was over her, I wouldn't have fallen into the entrapment of old feelings. She…and I can no longer be. I promised her I would figure it out, promised wild things in the heat of our moments, promises I can't keep. I can follow her, this one last time, into the dark. I can admit we've seen it all together, and that as the world blew up, we held hands watching it. I can admit I love her, but I can also admit it is over. Over, and we both need to move on.

Starting the truck, I decide to drive. If I can't sleep, then it is pointless for me to be standing here. Sitting here in the open like some handicapped Molerat. I light myself another cigarette, and sigh. Smoke fogs the windshield, and I crack my window to even out the air. Gob was happy to offer his truck. Happy that I decided to follow Dez. He's stupid. He believes that there's no time limit on emotions, and that everything can be alright. I won't break his silly dream. I'm not sure what Dez and I will tell him, when we return and she tells him she's leaving. Perhaps that it never worked? That Dez and I are two entirely different people now, than we were five years ago, and that things can't be the same? I suppose that's the best option now, isn't it?

I'd like to think it is. Like to think that the best option for both Dez and myself is to finally say goodbye. This time, with closure. But as I drive, I feel my hands gripping the steering wheel so tightly that I fear my knuckles may crack and bleed. I remember our moments, our actions, our words and events. No. No it is not the best option. I hate to say that although fucked, Gob's logic is right. It's the only one that makes sense. I feel like a person in one of those trashy novels Lily reads. I can't help it. Dezbe has…changed my life, just as I have changed hers. She has been there for me, dependant, loyal. I…I have become dependant on her, too. Against all odds, against unfathomable circumstances, I admit that I love her more than…my own life. I've proved that enough times for it to be true, but never…never like this. In this one burst of instinct, of action, I find myself racing across the desert, for what? For her. It has always been for her. She has chased me, as much as I have chased her. She chased me back to Underworld, followed me and found me the second she returned from The Pitt. Returned to me, after abandoning me at Fort Bannister, and searched for me when she was lost in her mind, her memories gone.

My foot weighs down on the gas, as I push Gob's truck to the limits. I race, to return to her side, to see her one last time. I still must say goodbye. I still must tell her we cannot, will not, ever be together again, but for now I feel I can lie to myself. I can lie, to comfort myself, to give myself false hope. Hope, that only my dreams have been offering lately.

In my dreams, we are still in the field. The grass is still green, and she is still beautiful. I am still human. Each one is slightly different from the last. Last time I slept, I can't remember if it was two nights or one night ago, was the dream that brought me the most comfort, the most renowned feelings of love I've ever had before. In that same bright, sunny, warm field, Dez laid under me. I could feel her body against mine, the touch of her bare skin, the feel of her lips. It was as if it was real, and not some images my mind had placed together. I felt her tremble and shake, heard her moan, felt her nails across my back. She cried my name softly into my ear.

"Charon…"

She said, as I lifted myself from her. Without hesitation, she pressed herself into me. Into my human self.

"Never leave me, Charon."

"I won't."

I told her in my dream, promised her.

"I need you, please don't leave."

Even in my dream, she begged with me, pleaded.

"I promise you, I won't Dez."

"Charon?"

"Yeah?"

"You're going to leave me."

I remember waking up angry, furious. I don't know why I was so enraged, so heated at something so simple and unreal. But I was. I was angry. Because…I knew my dream was right. Since I've met her, she made me promise I'd never leave. And each time, I told her I wouldn't. Each time, I lied. Because eventually, I didn't follow her. Now…now I am leaving her. It…it really…does anger me.


	28. Because I Hate Her

(Gob)

Hell, he went back. Shit. I've never been more proud of that big sack of guts than now. I mean, doing what he did takes guts. Sad thing is, is I got to hear it from Lily when he took off.

"And you just let him go?"

She shrieks at me, and I can't help but give the damn crazy woman a smile.

"Yup, I did."

"_Why_?"

She thinks her words and her tone have a power over me. At this point all I can do is laugh.

"Because, Lily, like it or not, Dez wins. I suggest you start looking for a new home."

"Over my dead body!"

"I'm sure Dez will take care of that."

It was around…ah, two days ago Lily came at me like that. And shit, the smile hasn't been wiped off my face. It's been five years, and finally, both Charon and Dez get their heads back. Like I said, though, I wasn't there when Dez left, I only heard about it. But man, when I saw Charon…there was no mistaking it. He missed her. He missed her more than this world would miss the goddamned sun. Him going back there, after her, to wherever the fuck she went, is just a sign that he's finally realized what's been right in front of him. I can't really drop a word to the wiser about their relationship, I mean I wasn't there. But I can say this. I can say I ain't never seen two people love one another the way they did. Even Nova and I can't hold a candle to it. I've heard wild stories of Charon running out of a burning Citadel for that girl, flames on his back and all. Of course, these stories are all second hand and Charon was probably the one who caused that fire in the first place. Hopefully, the two dumbshits will come back here in one piece, and together for that matter. If I can do anything for Dez after all she's done for me, it's to get Charon and her back together.

"Daddy!"

Zack calls as he runs up to me. I took him outside today, well, because he wanted to come outside.

"What is it?"

"I found a rock!"

He holds a rock up to me. I can't help but laugh at it. Not like there's billions of rocks out here.

"That's…nice Zack."

I tell him before he runs off, smiling, happy. I watch him run around for a bit, as he plays by himself and minds his own business. That is, until Lily the Tramp decides to block my goddamned sun.

"I have to speak with you."

She says as I look over at her. Shit the woman and I have _never_ been on good terms, and short of her screaming at me, we've never spoken. I can't help the smirk that crawls across my face, though, as she sits down across from me.

"You're wasting breath, Lily. I'm on Dez's side."

"I can't see why."

She says. I have half a mind to tell her, too, but I figure it's best not to. Figure that's my business, and Dez's, and that's all anybody needs to know.

"What do you want?"

Although I already know, I ask anyways.

"Gob, I know you hate me. I know you hate Charon being with me, but I _need_ him, Gob. I love him."

"No, you don't. You just love him taking care of you."

"That's not true!"

I give her a look and inhale on my cigarette. She sighs, running her fingers through her long hair. Shit if I didn't hate her so much, I'd admit she's beautiful. But I don't, because I hate her.

"I…I love him, Gob. I don't…I've never had someone like him in my life."

"Could have fooled me, and everyone else."

"You're not around when Charon and I are alone, Gob. You don't know what he's like."

"I'm sure he's nothing like he was with Dez."

"What is with her that makes him so…so…"

"So devoted? So driven? Loyal? Honest? Which one is it, Lily?"

"_Everything_!"

She slams her hand down on the table, and I catch my ashtray before it falls off. I give her a nasty look, scowling.

"You don't know the half of their relationship."

"So _tell_ me!"

"I don't know it either, you best ask him when _they_ get back."

"But he's told me he loves _me_!"

For the first time in my time knowing Lily, I feel bad for her. Shit, I mean there's actual tears in her eyes, and she's really upset over this. For a second I think I care, but then I remember what a bitch she is. She's also, a _very_ good actress. I've seen her work her charms on Charon enough to know.

"So? Dez is back. That's all he cares about now."

"…I just…Gob…why?"

I sigh. I suppose I can tell her what I do know.

"Because…shit Lily, Charon didn't tell you _anything_?"

"No…why?"

"Well, without giving away Charon's life-story as I know it, they kind of saved one another."

"Like he saved me?"

I laugh, and slap my knee.

"Oh hell no! No, no. Trust me on that one. I think Dez has saved his ass just as many times as he's saved hers. Dez can handle herself pretty well in the battlefield. Charon just adds logic to her insanity and together, well, trust me Lily, you'll see."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean in due time, you'll know what I mean. Then, then you can figure if you still see Dez as competition."

"She _is_ competition. She's the _worst_ thing that's happened to Charon and I."

"I think it's the other way around. Lily, when you see those two fighting together, or even just _talking_ you'll know."  
"I've seen them talk, I haven't seen a damn thing."

"Then you don't know Charon at all."

Even I know no one loves Dez, or any other woman, like he does. I'd risk my life for Nova in a millisecond, but Charon…Charon would risk his life ten times in that millisecond. And if he didn't still fuckin' care about her, then he wouldn't have left. He wouldn't have knocked holes in the wall and took off like a bat outta hell. They're meant to be, and I ain't havin' it any other way.

"Gob, will you just tell me what…what you know?"

"I know they love each other. I know I ain't never seen two people look at one another like they do. I know Charon came damn near death, and Dez risked her ass for him. Plus a handful of times that's happened the other way around. And I know that you ain't got nothin' on Dez. You're a pretty face, Lily, I won't lie, but that's not Charon's thing. Charon needs someone he can take care of, someone to push his buttons, and follow him blindly into the heat of battle. He don't know it an' I ain't gonna tell him, but it's there. This domestic shit life you've built for him, it ain't him, Lily."

She looks at me like she hasn't heard a damn word I've said. Stubbing out my cigarette, I watch Zack as he peers through the cracks of the closed gate. Shit, in a way I wish he'd start hollerin' and shoutin' that Uncle Charon was back and there was some damn scary lady with him. But it ain't gonna happen. Two days, that's all it's been, really. If I still know Charon and Dez, it'll be a bit before they get back. Those two like to lollygag.

"I can do all those things and more, Gob."

If I had been drinkin' water, I would have spit it out. Lily's statement is so messed up, it's hard _not_ to laugh. Shit, I mean, is she serious? She can't be. Looking at her, I can tell she is, though.

"Lily, you have the attitude, but you don't have the action."

"What?"

"Dez will not only talk about giving you a swift kick in the ass, she'll do it with a steel boot. You…shit you'll just mention it in passing, _if_ you're feeling balsy."

"You don't even know me!"

She snarls at me, slamming her palms down on the table. I shake my head at her, and she knows that I'm done. I don't even watch her as she walks away. For four years or so, I been beggin Charon to get rid of her. Beggin' him to just let her die in the Wastes. Shit, he hasn't, and he should have. Thank the lord Dez came back. Somehow, somehow I know they'll end up together. Those two are more stubborn than a hot-headed mule, but I'm not gonna let them walk away from one another again. It's the least I can do. I mean, after all they've both done for me, I can risk my neck, and Charon giving me a swift beating, for them.


	29. Nothing I Feel Pulls at Me

(Charon)

The sun is slowly rising, as my journey ends. Here, here is where the map stops. Where Dez stated she would be. A week ago. At the edge of a steep slope, I sit, contemplating. I do not know, if I can do this. If I can force myself down into the unknown, knowing she is close, knowing…that once I see her, that'll be the end. The end of all reason, rationalization, words, logic. I have counted on logic, counted on it to get my through my entire life. I was taught the greater good, kill five to save five hundred. Kill one, to save two. Now…now it all comes down to this, as I watch the sun slowly rising, as I inhale on my third cigarette in a row.

Each night with Lily, when she would allow sex to happen, it was always Dez. It was always her image, her body, I pictured myself kissing and holding. She was always the one I wanted, needed, cared for. Five years later, and I still couldn't get her out of my mind. Five years later, I contemplate now, if this is what I truly want. Five years ago, I wanted nothing more than to chase her, to have her stay with me, protect what remained of Underworld together. I didn't. I stayed. I don't know if it was good, or bad. I told her I loved her, kissed her, pinned her against that gate in anger and lust. I kissed her in the rain at Point Lookout. Kissed her like…like I've never kissed Lily.

The situation should be obvious. Leave Lily for Dez. Run with Dez on whatever new adventure she can pull out of her ass. It's not. Lily has a child, and that child has come to depend on me. Depend on me to laugh with, play with, bring home money for the food, small trinkets for her to play with. I never liked children, but I like Mackenzie. I like Zack. I provide for them, as if they are a family I can never have. As if Lily is the infamous trophy wife old men once had pre-war. I love Lily, yes, but in a different way. I love her, but I am not _in_ love with her. In love with her, as I am in love with Dez.

I have been weighing it over and over in my mind. Knowing my actions will have dire consequences. Regardless, if I choose to follow Dez, and convince her to come home with me, then I can convince her we are over. Against my emotions, I can listen to my logic, and convince her that…we cannot be. She has been gone far too long, for this to ever work. Instances can happen, yes, where I believe it is possible, but when the heat of the moment fades, we both know. We both know…it's over. Simple as that. So…why do I still contemplate it? Why does anger still seethe as I remember her with Tobar? As I think of the man, Jack, she ran away with? Uncontrollable anger. I promised her I'd never let her down. I broke that promise, but she broke hers. What hers is, I can't say. All I know, is that for the last time, I must follow her, and chase her down.

Standing, I grip my cigarette between my teeth, as I secure my shotgun on my back. Of all the freelance jobs I've had in the past five years, none of them required sliding down a hill on my ass like a damn child. That's exactly what I'm doing now. Thanks to Dez. Only she can force me into such situations willingly. Emotions are what drove me here, what drove me to care for her, what caused my walls to break and force my training to become second. I've come to realize now, how dangerous emotions are. How much I hate them, how much I don't want anything to do with them. I've completely cut myself off, built a façade that only I can live in, only I can see, since Dez's departure. But then…then she returns, and I don't know what to do.

Coming to the end of the slope, I quickly brush the dirt that has collected on my backside. Nerves cause my heart to race. Dez is close, I don't know how I know this, but I do. Call it gut intuition, or Alpha male stimuli. I feel anger, anticipation, swelling inside of my chest as memories cloud my vision. I remember softly playing keys with Dez. It calmed her. When she was sick, I took her into my arms, wrapped her in myself, and played imaginary keys with her. I held her body, keeping her sane, keeping her warm. I remember never wanting to leave that moment. Never wanting it to pass. The feel of her against me, of her hands with my own…I'd give anything to have it back.

No. No. Shaking my head, I rub my eyes furiously. No, it is in the past. I cannot allow this to interfere more than it already has. I've put my relationship with Lily at enough risk as it is. I cannot simply…sacrifice more than I have for Dez. Not this time. No.

Using my hand, I clear away a dense collection of branches. My training tells me these branches were deliberately put here. As in, the trees planted in this specific spot. Why? Because as I look around, I notice no other plants growing so close to one another, as these are. Already, my adrenaline begins to pump. Reaching behind me, I take hold of my shogun and effortlessly lift it from my back. Stepping forward, I am nearly knocked off of my feet at what I see.

Trees, real trees, grow green. I smell the air, and notice the absence of radiation, and look down to see fresh grass beneath my feet. Ahead of me, a small town lays. It reminds me of pre-war, of small Mom and Pop shops. A decrepit fountain lies in the middle of this town, showing the true age. Whereas the buildings, homes, shops, are in perfect condition. This…this is not normal. I have seen many strange things in my life, but none as strange as this open display of…of civilization. Even I, know that New Vegas is as decrepit as Megaton. Nothing, nothing is like this.

I step forward, and on to the cracked pavement of the town. The moment I do, people come out. As if I have triggered some sort of sensor. The people, women and men, are dressed in pre-war garb. This does not shock me as much as it should. I have seen many people in the Capital Wasteland wearing pre-war outfits. It is the town, the way these people simply look, that shock me. They stare at me, as if they have never seen a ghoul before. This can't be the place Dez spoke of finding. This place…is not natural.

"…What the hell are you?"

I hear a voice to my far left, and I look over. A man in a black suit and black hat stands. I notice a small gun in his hand. He clutches it tightly. I show him mines bigger, and he steps back, even though I have not taken steps towards him.

"I'm looking for someone."

I tell him, anger seeping with every word. The man swallows hard, as I scan the town. I know he will not shoot me. His fear of me paralyzes him. Dez is here. I know she is.

"We don't have whatever you are here!"

The man in black says. I return my gaze to him, angrier now.

"She is a human."

"We don't allow outsiders here!"

I don't believe him. I step closer to him, cocking my shotgun. He knows as well as I, it will simply take one swift pull of my trigger to end his life.

"Where is she?"

He knows who I came here for. I can see it in his small, beady little eyes. From the building behind him, a man emerges. I cannot contain myself. Emotions, doing exactly what I did not want them to do. Anger flies through my body, as I feel my feet pick up from the ground. I charge the man, Jack, hitting him with the butt of my shotgun.

"Where is she?"

I holler at him as he falls to the ground. The cracking of bones rings defiantly in my ear. People around me scream and cry in fear. The noise annoys me, and I fire a warning shot into the air with my shotgun.

"Leave him! Your business is with me!"

The man in black says behind me. Jack lays on the ground, cowering, whimpering, bleeding.

"He came here with her. Where is she?"

I tell the man in black. I hear Jack stand and scurry off somewhere, but I pay him no mind. This town feels small, I will hunt him out if worse comes to worse.

"You are speaking of the crazy one, aren't you?"

"Her name is Dezbe."

I grip my gun so tightly, that what skin is left on my hands cracks beneath my gloves. The man steps back as I step forward. Townspeople watch in awe, in horror.

"Yes, yes she is here."

"Then bring her to me."

"I'm afraid that isn't possible…"

I don't hold back. When he says that, the worst comes to mind. Balling my hand into a fist, I don't hesitate to hit him swiftly.

"If you hurt her I will _kill_ you."

I tell him softly, as I cling to his collar, bringing his face close to mine, lifting him from the ground.

"She's alive! She's alive!"

"Then tell me where she is!"

I drop the cowering, sorry excuse for a man, back on the ground. He hits it with a soft 'thud' and looks up at me, frightened.

"Yes! Yes!"

I don't watch where he runs to. My eyes are focused on the town. The onlookers frightened. I cock my gun once more, and march towards them.

"I will burn this town to the ground, if you don't start talking!"

It has been five years, since I have felt this. Five years, since I have felt my heart beating so rapidly, my pulse increase so much, my mind, focused only on one thing. I have not felt alive like this, in five years.

"Go away!"

One man is brave enough to yell, and throw a full bottle of beer at me. Without remorse, thought, or concern, I shoot him. A gaping hole appears in his chest, as the man falls, dead before he hits the ground. The townspeople, the onlookers, they step back. Women cower behind their men, and the men pretend to be brave. I cock my gun once more, staring all of them down. I am but one man, but I am a smart man. I am dangerous. I am here, for Dezbe.

"She left!"

Jack's voice rings through the air. I turn to see him behind me. I cock an eyebrow, at the hand he is cradling in his elbow. I did not harm his appendages.

"What?"

I say, as if I did not hear him.

"She left! She escaped! She isn't here."

His words may be true, but I do not believe them. Turning my back on the crowd, I walk over to him, and he rightfully cowers.

"You will show me every _inch_ of this town. If I find out you lied, I will _tear_ you _limb_ from _limb_."

I seethe at him. He closes his eyes, blood coming from where I hit him. When he says nothing, I forcefully take his injured hand in my own, and squeeze. Cries of pain, of agony, ring in everyone's ears. I don't let up.

"Tell me _where_ she is."

I demand, squeezing harder. This injury, I know this. This was no accident. This was Dez's doing. She is here.

"She left! She left!"

I twist his wrist until I hear the bones snap, until I feel them beneath his thin skin.

"_Liar_."

I hiss, bringing him to his knees. He sobs, breaking under the pain, under the pressure.

"Alright…alright…"

He gasps, and I let go of him. On the ground, Jack curls into a ball. He cries like a beaten child, cradling his deformed hand. I have the want to kick him while he is down, but I refrain.

"…She…she…"

I kick him, in a rush to get the words out. With his good hand, he waves at a building behind him.

"In there?"

I ask, and he nods. I kick him one last time, for good measure.

"If she's not in there, I will come back for you."

I warn him as I step over his body. My shadow covers the sun on him, and he flinches from that. How could Dez run off with such a man? With a man who would cower and wince without even trying to fight back? I know she has terrible judgment, but I at least hoped she was smarter. I shake my head as I walk towards the building. Dez. How stupid and foolish can you be? Did she simply just formulate this plan from her ass in hopes I would follow? Yes, that does sound like her. And I was foolish enough to follow.

Stepping into the building, I find it to be a tavern. It reminds me of pre-war, reminds me of a different time. I do not like it. This is not the world I have lived in, for over two-hundred years. I pace around, looking at the empty building. Jack didn't lie, no. Dez is here, I can _feel_ it.

"Dez!"

I call out. No reply. Nothing. Spying a set of stairs on the far wall, I decide perhaps she is up there. Out of earshot, maybe? I do not know. Quietly, I walk over to the stairs, and begin the steady climb up. I am not sure what I expect to find, but not Dez. Something tells me she is not here. That she is down below, perhaps hiding somewhere in the tavern. No. No Dez would never hide from me. I know her far too well. Rather, I find myself standing in front of a large wooden door. With the hopes of finding information as to where she is, I open it. The man in black is inside the room, standing, as if he was waiting for me.

"You came for her."

He states, as if he knew I was coming.

"I did."

"Jack warned me of your arrival."

"Tell me where she is."

He seems…calm. He knows, I can't kill him. Because then I might not ever find her. I cannot fail her, this last time.

"She is alive, don't be alarmed. We have not harmed a pretty hair on her pretty little body."

Hearing him talk about her like that blinds me. Rage spills in my mind, and I do all I can not to act out on it.

"I will burn this place to the ground, if you do not tell me where she is."

"Then she will die, as well. Without me, my information, you'll never find her."

"I'll tear this place apart looking."

The man folds his arms as he stands in front of me. A good foot shorter than me, he has to look up at me. It surprises me, his confidence.

"You're determined."

"Yes."

"I like that in a man, perhaps we can come to some sort of deal."

Even though he is calm, relaxed, I am not. I am on guard, my teeth feeling like they're going to crack, if I keep clenching my jaw.

"What kind of deal?"

"I give you the girl, and…you stay."

"What?"

"The people here will rebel. Once you take the girl, they will want to move on and see the world. I cannot have that. I want you to stay, and tell them you are what they become, if they leave."

No. His request is so blindingly stupid that I almost crack a smirk at him.

"No. Give me the girl, and we'll peacefully leave. That is my only request."

I tell him, cocking my gun.

"You can't kill me."

"I'll find her on my own."

"Try."

I don't hesitate. I shoot him, to his shock. Not in any vital part, but his leg. It breaks from his body, blood leaking everywhere. I'm not bothered by it. I have seen worse.

"Tell me where she is, and I'll make this quick."

"No…no…"

He gasps, clinging to the stump that once was. He lays on the floor, squirming, his body entering shock.

"Then you can die here, slowly."

His eyes meet mine. He will die here, without a name. I will not help him die faster, unless he gives me what I want. The life slowly leaks from him. When you're looking a dying person in the face, you can tell. You can see them, slowly losing themselves, slowly seeing what those around them cannot.

"Sh…She…"

He gasps, and I step closer.

"Behind…wall…"

He clutches his chest, his leg that isn't there. I know enough. Taking aim, I squeeze my trigger once more, unjustly ending his life. I should have let him bleed there. Let him die a slow, painful death. I do not know what he has done to Dez to deserve this, but…his keeping her whereabouts from me have proven enough.

She is down here, behind a wall. I should have known. In pre-war, business and homes alike were built with secret 'bomb shelters'. Of course, they did no good, and most of the time were used as storage. I should have guessed, there would have been something similar here, in this town. Making my way down the stairs, I hear them creak under my weight. The tavern is musky, dark, but it'll do. A part of me wants to shoot walls, in order to find the space that moves. But that might injure Dez, so rather than risk it, I take the slower, simpler way.

Pressing my ear against the wall, I lightly knock. I do this, from one end of the tavern to the other. Patiently waiting, patiently listening. I may have all the time in the world, but I do not suspect Dez has the same. As I am about to give up and go in search of Jack once more, I hear it. I tap on the wall once more, hearing it echo. Yes. The space. Running my hands up and down, I gently work my fingers into the crooks, finding the door. It is here. Without thinking, I step back and ram my shoulder into it. Something metallic clicks, and slowly, the doors opens, as I step back.

No light shines. A dark shadow flows out, fighting with the dim light of the sun that leaks through the musky windows.

"Dez?"

I call, before I enter. I will not walk into a trap, and lose my own life in the process. Silence at first, and I swallow hard. She is in there, I know it, but I do not know if I should enter.

"…Charon?"

Her weak, broken voice lifts me. I'm elated to hear her, elated to know that she is alive. But her voice…her voice is soft. It is…defeated. Even in the worst situation, I have _never_ heard her voice sound as…as hopeless as it dos right now.

"I'm here, Dez."

I say as I step into the darkness. Opening the wall-door more, I allow more light to come through. A thick beam shows bars, shows an old lock. I step inside and glance behind those bars, but it is too dark to see if Dez is there.

"…You came back…"

Her voice comes from the far back, left corner. I cannot see her, she is shrouded in darkness.

"Yeah, I did."

"…You…should have stayed…"

"Dez?"

What? She didn't want me to follow her?

"I…don't…deserve this. You…don't...deserve what I've done."

"You're talking nonsense. Stand back I'm getting you out."

Without second thought, I shoot at the lock until it falls off. Until the bar door slides open to my left, and I am able to step inside. I am not frightened of being locked inside, there is no more lock. I step into the dark, and offer my hand to Dez, although I can't see her.

"We can talk once we get out. Come on."

I use a gentle tone with her. Something soft, something familiar that might remind her of better times. I hear her sigh, hesitant, but soon feel the coldness of her hand as she takes mind. Helping her to her feet, I feel she is much lighter than I remember. Much, much lighter.

"…You shouldn't have."

She says quietly. I let go of her hand, allowing her to freely stand. To my shock, she falls to the concrete floor.

"Dez?"

I say, as I crouch beside her.

"…I'm sorry…"

She whispers to me, trying to stand. I allow her to lean on me. I allow her to rest her head at the crook of my arm, as I slip my arm around her waist. She feels frail, and brittle, as I walk with her. I am simply happy she is alive. Alive, and with me. Where…where she should be, but where she can't stay. Her body against mine, she holds me, onto me, as if she'll die from letting go. I can feel her fear, her dependency, as I guide her slowly into the light. When we reach the porch of the tavern, I look down at her. I am nearly floored by what I see.

Her once thick and wild hair now hands, limp and greasy around her shoulders. The sun-kissed and tanned skin that I had come to admire, is now white as the film over my eyes. Her curves that I have enjoyed running my hands over, feeling, touching, kissing, have been reduced to bones and lanky limbs. She looks up at me, with dark bags beneath her eyes. I feel her squeeze my side, looking at me with eyes that held so much, now are on the verge of death. Her lips are dry, cracked and caked with blood. Her hands, brittle, with dried blood and fresh wounds on them. This cannot be the same Dezbe who laughed in the face of danger. They have broken her.

"…Take me away…"

She says in that meek, meek voice.

"Alright."

No one bothers us. They don't try to interfere with me. Rather, they stand aside. They allow Dez and I to pass freely, and I'm sure my public display of anger on Jack plays a part of this. Dez leans on me, all ninety-something pounds of her, resting on my side. I carry guns larger than her. Her weight is not a problem, as we vanish behind the dense branches.

"I can't…"

She says as we come to the slope.

"Hold on to me, don't worry."

I tell her, trying to be cold and comforting all at once. Dez nods, and I turn my back to her. She slips her arms around my shoulders, as I lift her on my back. I feel her thighs wrap around my midsection, her face rest in the crook of my neck. I want to stop what I'm doing, and kiss her until she returns to me. I want to find the Dez, that once infiltrated an entire mercenary base, in my name.

I don't, though. Rather, I focus on climbing up the steep hill, and not on Dez. I don't pay mind to her hot breath on my neck, the way her chest moves against my back. I don't shudder at the feel of her dry lips against me, at the motions of her squeezing my shoulders, hanging on. This person, this body that I carry with me, this is not Dez. This is a broken shell of what she once was. I cannot blame myself for this. Dez…brought this upon herself.

We reach the top, and gently, I carry her over to the back of Gob's truck. Sitting her down on the bed of it, it begin to examine her in the bright sunlight. Her eyes are dim, her skin is pale. She looks like she has stared death in the face. I expect her to say something, but she remains silent. She looks at something, I cannot see. She looks past me.

"Do you need water? Radiation? Food?"

I ask, hoping she'll reply something snide and rude.

"…No."

I place my hand on her cheek. Gently, I rub my thumb across it. She looks at me, but she does not smile. In the past, she would have.

"Dez…"

Is all I can say. I'm at a loss for words. This girl sitting in front of me, so broken and battered…I can't believe it's her. But I know it is her. I know, because…I feel it.

"…You're taking me home, aren't you?"

"Yes."

I expected a fight. Expected a pitiful protest, some display of weak anger. I got nothing. All she gave me, was a nod of acknowledgement. She didn't even look at me. She looks past me now, as she gently slides herself from the bed of the truck. I offer her my help, but she declines.

"You've done enough."

Her voice is so soft, I can hardly hear it above the wind. Sighing, I watch, helpless, as she slowly walks to the passenger side door. She struggles with opening it, her strength drained. I can't imagine what they did to her, to make her like this. I don't want to, either. I simply want to return her to the tower, so that she can recover.

I let myself in the driver's side, and hand Dez a cigarette. She takes it, but doesn't look at me. Even when I lean in to light it, she stares only at the cigarette in her mouth, the flame in mine. When smoke leaks out of her mouth, she retreats to her side of the cabin. She forces her body against the door, curling her toes beneath her, into a small ball, she blows smoke from the window. I decide not to pry, and allow her to sit in her silence. I do not want to…I'm not sure.


	30. I'll Take You Back If You'll Have Me

We drive silently for hours. The only noise Dez's makes, is a small squeak if I hit a bump too hard. The silence kills me. I want her to say something, say anything.

"Charon?"

Well, I got my want.

"Yes?"

I ask, perhaps a bit too eager.

"…Please stop the truck."

Concerned, I listen. I put it in park, and turn the engine off. Dez has uncurled herself from her ball, and she looks at me, her eyes deathly vacant.

"Are you alright?"

I say with genuine concern and worry.

"…You…shouldn't have come."

"Dez, talk to me. Tell me what's wrong."

"I…I thought about it…everything. You…you've always saved me. It…it was me who made us like this. Me. Because…because I left. And…and now…now…we aren't who we were…I don't know…my head it…it…"

She opens the passenger door and gently lifts herself from the seat. I follow her out, taking my gun in case of enemies. I follow Dez as she walks in front of the truck, standing on a hill. I've never missed her smile, more than I have right now.

"Dez?"

I ask, worried, curious.

"I need…I need you…to do me something…"

"What is it?"

Her arms wrap around her frail body. She looks at me, the wind blowing her hair.

"…My head…it…it's not good. Charon…you've…done enough. You've saved me enough…please understand what I'm saying."

"I'm trying to."

"…I haven't been…at peace. I've…tried to be. In New Vegas…and I realized…that the only time I was…was with you…but then I hurt you. I've always hurt you…"

"You're not making sense, Dez."

I watch her move. Watch as she turns to face me. Even in her weakened state, in her lost mind, she entices me. Carefully, she steps closer to me, her hand wrapping around the barrel of my gun. Slowly, she brings it to her chest, and I know.

"Please…Charon…I've…I'm tired."

"Dez, no. No, this is insane. Come back to the tower with me. Come back home."

She gives me a half-smirk, a half-smile that shows me somewhere, Dez is alive and well inside of her.

"Home? I have no home, Charon. I…have nothing to go home to…I...my life…I've done enough. I'm so tired…Charon…"

I stare at her in wild disbelief.

"You have a home, Dez. Back at Tenpenny Tower with Gob and I."

"With you…with Lily…Charon you have a life now…a new one…a better one. Please, please don't make this harder. Please, Charon."

Her hand is tightly wrapped around my barrel. She holds it at her chest still, finding strength to keep it there.

"Dez, no. No, and you're not changing my mind. Get in the truck, we can be home by tomorrow if we hurry."

She shakes her head at me. Her limps hair flowing around her face.

"Please…do it for me…for me."

"I can't."

I tell her, hearing defeat in my own voice.

"I love you, Charon. I always…always have. And…and because of that…I can't go home with you. I…can't hurt your life more than I already have. I know…once I go back…I'll do all I can to have you…I can't…"

I shake my head at her.

"No."

"Then go home without me. Please, just leave me here."

"This isn't you, Dez."

"I never knew who I was, Charon."

Tears fall from her eyes. They stain her cheeks, cleaning off the dirt that has settled on her. I watch as they drip down her jawbone, and into the dirt below.

"Dez, I'm not…doing this. I'll do anything but."

"Then tell me…tell me what happens…when we get home?"

I don't know. I don't know anymore. I hadn't expected this. Hadn't expected her to…be this way. Now…now this changes everything.

"I don't know, Dez."

Slowly, calmly, Dez drops the barrel of my gun. As she does, I feel it slide from my hand. I don't try and catch it. I don't want to. It falls to the dirt, I hear it, but I don't make a move.

"You've…chased me enough. You've…sacrificed enough…Charon, for me. I won't let…let myself do this to you again. I promise…promise I'll leave…once I…I…"

I don't let her finish. I reach towards her, and pull her into my body. I cling to her, letting the emotions I've been fighting so hard to let go of, rework their ways inside of me. I dig my hands into the waist of her dress, clinging to the fabric for my own life. I bury my face in her hair, my grip on her tighter than it ever has been before in the past. Buried in my chest, I feel Dez's weak and quiet sobbing. She rubs her face into the leather of my outfit, her fragile hands clinging to the buckles that cross in front of my chest.

"I will never _ever_ leave you, Dezbe."

I tell her, trying to convince her of the truth. She says nothing, as she grips me tighter. I feel something right now, that I've never felt before. I'm not sure how to describe it. Tears. Tears. They fall from my eyes, streaming down my cheeks, and into her hair. These are not tears of sadness, nor tears of joy. I am unsure, of what they are tears for. My heart beats, as my body shakes, I gasp for air, I've never felt such a surge. I hold on to her, as if she…she will float away if I don't.

"Don't…don't cry…Charon…"

I hear her say, and it only makes me want to cry more. It only forces my emotions outward, as I lean back, cupping her face in my hands.

"I have _always_ been with you, Dez. I will_ always_ be with you."

I tell her, trying to drill it into her.

"…Lily…"

She says, whispering it softly.

"Will find…we'll…I don't know."

"I did this, to us, Charon."

"No, you didn't."

"You've saved me enough."

I use the back of my hand to wipe her face clean.

"Because I want to."

Her bottom lip quivers. Her eyes search inside of mine. She used to pull my strings and push my buttons for thrills. She used to anger me and drive me into frenzies. Now…now as I stare down at her, with the bright sun climbing lower in the sky, I know she needs me. I know this is not one of her ill-timed tantrums. If Dez has ever needed me, really needed me, it is now.

"I…I…"

She stutters, shaking her head. Somehow, someway, I'll sacrifice more and prove to her that…this is alright. That in her life she can find peace, peace with me.

"Come _home_ with me, Dez."

We do not kiss. We do not embrace once more. Dez simply nods, as she raises a hand to stroke my cheek. The first sign of water, irradiated water, I will stop and allow her to sit in it. I will kill anything that moves, to feed to her. I will do all I can to get the Dez I once knew back, the Dez I have come to love.

Back in the truck, Dez lays with her head in my lap. I start the engine, and pump the clutch to shift gears. Glancing down, I see Dez staring up at me, her face stuck in thought. Slowly, I stroke the side of her cheek as I look back up, driving with one hand.

"I'll follow you, Charon, until you love me."

"I do love you."

She is quiet for a moment, and I feel her hand on mine.

"I…I'll still follow…"

"I know, Dez. I know."

I look down at her, as the truck goes over bumps and rocks. Even in the unsteady cabin, with the rocky movements, Dez seems at ease. Her eyes are closed, her hands wrapped around mine, and she softly breathes. I do not know what will happen when I return home. I do not know what I'm going to do, how I'm going to handle this situation, or what will be the outcome. All I do know, is that for right now, I can be at ease as well. I can sit here with Dez, with the woman who has taken on the world and more, and give myself a satisfied smirk. Her and I both know, no matter the time or distance between us, she'll always call me back to her, and I will always come.


	31. Desert Rose, Sweet Intoxication of Love

The truck rocked me to sleep. When it stopped, I woke up. It took me a bit, to remember where I was, when I opened my eyes. It felt like a dream. All of it did. One minute, I'm giving up all hope, ready to admit defeat and accept death, and the next…the next Charon's standing there, looking in from the sunlight at me.

I didn't want him to come at that point. I didn't want him to show his face, because I didn't feel like I deserved to see it. I didn't feel…I don't feel, like I've deserved any of his words or actions. After all I've done to him, and all I haven't done for him, I didn't deserve to walk behind him. Didn't even deserve to…to be rescued. But regardless of that, regardless of everything in our past, all our fights and disagreements, he came for me. He came, even though for a second time I turned my back and left him. It made my life, my time in New Vegas, easier to blame him. Everything was just so much easier, when it was everyone else's fault. But it wasn't everyone else's fault. It was mine.

It was my fault for Fort Bannister, my fault for the fights, my fault for almost every incident we've found ourselves in, Charon and I. I just…didn't want to admit it. I had convinced myself, in some way, shape or form, Charon was at fault for everything. I placed that mental burden on him, so I didn't have to. I feel bad, for doing that. I feel bad, for doing everything I have.

My mind hasn't been silent since they locked me inside that cell. I didn't ask Charon to kill me because I simply felt sad. I asked him, because it felt like the only solution to all of my problems. Not temporary problems, either. Ones I've had since as far back as I can remember. And even with my damaged memory, I can remember pretty far back. But, not too much. I felt that the only release and freedom I would have from the voices and demons inside my own mind, would be if I just left it all behind. I'd have done it myself, inside of that cell, if I wasn't so scared.

He didn't, though, and I can't figure out if I'm relieved or not for it. I'm happy he's here, happy he came for me and lets me lie in his lap…But…what next? What happens when I get back to the tower? Do we say goodbye? Do we continue where we left off? I know now, that I can't really go on without him. Surviving is one thing, I can do that easy, but…everything else without him? Waking up without him beside me, without the calming sense of safety and care his presence brings, I don't know how I can do that now.

Glancing up at him, I feel his hand on the side of my face. He never took it off. I watch, as his eyes catch mine, as he reaches over the wheel to take the keys from the ignition.

"What's going on?"

I ask, feeling stronger than I did before. Feeling that the small nap I took did me worlds of good.

"It is late. I am tired."

I glance around the small cabin. There's not enough room for both of us to sleep. So for the first time, I offer something to him.

"You sleep in here, I'll sleep in the back."

I sit up, a bit too quickly. I feel dizzy and lightheaded as the blood rushes from my face. I use the door to keep myself steady. Charon watches me. I know I'm safe.

"No, Dez. There's some Molerats outside. I will kill one, build a fire. We may both sleep next to it. The cabin gets very cold, close to sunrise."

I nod, agreeing, but not speaking. I don't feel adequate around him anymore. I don't feel I deserve to even stand beside him. Any other man would have left me to my fate, and told me tough shit. But Charon isn't any other man. He's a trained killer, and he's in love with me. I have no inkling why, because I never did a damn thing to deserve it.

"Are you hungry?"

He asks, and I look at him as I close the door, getting out of the truck. He walks over in front of the hood, and stands close to me. It makes me tingle, makes me nervous, makes me…makes me…feel like I could fly.

"Yeah…yeah I could eat."

I say, averting his eyes, and looking down. His arm comes into my vision, and I feel the palm of his gloved hand stroke my upper arm. I'm starving, actually, but I don't let him know that.

"Dez, is everything alright?"

When I left Charon, he was strong, silent, brooding. He always had this formal, old way of speaking. Emotions weren't really part of his networking, and he stuck out like a sore thumb because of it. But now…now five years later, he's an entirely different person. He's still brooding and silent, but…his words and voice flow with emotion. With normalcy. With the simple formulation of regular sentences. I look up at him, as he gently squeezes my upper arm. His eyes fill with concern, and I wonder, why he wastes it on me.

"…Yeah, yeah everything is fine."

I don't have the heart or courage to tell him it's not. To tell him that I don't deserve him, to tell him that I wish he would leave and let me die alone. I can't tell him, because I don't feel he'd listen. And a part of me…a part of me wants him to stay. Really, really badly.

"I am happy, to have you back safe."

Charon tells me, as I stare at him in the dark. A chilly wind blows, reminding me I'm still in a pre-war dress. All my things, my gun, my outfit, has been left behind. I didn't tell Charon I had belongings, things that I wanted to retrieve. I didn't feel I deserved the opportunity to speak to him.

"I still…don't think you should have come."

I find the courage to tell him. To calmly speak to him, and express why I feel this way.

"I had no other choice."

"No, Charon. You had another choice, you always have."

"And I've always chosen to follow you."

I didn't think of it like that.

"You did it because I expected you to."

"I did it, because I _wanted_ to."

He's right. I never forced him to come find me. I never…never told him to find me or else. In each action and moment where he's had to decide to come or stay, he's always chosen to come.

"You didn't come to New Vegas."

I tell him, simply stating and not accusing. He hears this in my voice, and kisses my forehead gently.

"Because I believed it to be for the best. I should have followed you then, too though."

"Tell me what happens when we get home, please?"

"I can't. I don't know what will happen then."

I wrap my arms around his torso. I want to hold on to him, until the world ends. I want him to take me someplace warm and safe, someplace I can be free. Someplace, where there's a happily ever after.

"I can say, though, that everything will be alright when we get there."

"Yeah…yeah I guess."

I mutter to him. Closing my eyes, I inhale his familiar scent. I feel the familiarity of his body against mine, feel the leather of his armor, and the rough groves of his arms. I need him. I need him so bad.

"Wait here. I will bring back food."

He says as his arms slide from my body. I take a step back, looking around shamefully.

"I don't have a gun."

I tell him, glancing downwards at my feet. Without saying anything, Charon hands me his shotgun. The only other time he's ever allowed me to use it, was at Fort Bannister. I take the gun in my hands, feeling the cold metal, the old wood. I glance up at him as he retrieves the combat knife from his side, giving me a hopeful nod.

"I'll be alright."

He nods again, and turns his back. Leaning against the truck, I grip his shotgun in my hands. I watch, as Charon vanishes into the cover of night. A part of me wants to chase him, chase him down and admit all the things I never could. Admit things from more than five years ago, from my childhood, from al the dark recesses of my mind. But the stronger part of myself, forces me to stay still. I wait, patiently focused, watching the place he vanished into in hopes of a swift return. I don't like to be alone anymore. My journey…well, my entire journey with him, made me like that. Made me depend on him, love him, want nothing to do with anything else but him. I should have never left for New Vegas. I never should have turned my back, on the best thing that ever forced its way into my life.

I don't know what will happen back home. I don't know if in the end, Charon and I will stay together. Lord knows I want us to be. There's no doubt in my mind, that it's the only thing in the world I want so badly. I blink, staring into the darkness, hoping for some sort of sign that he's coming back. He's only just left, but…I have so much I want to tell him. So much, that, I can't figure out how. I just…I just don't know _how_. I can be so cruel, so mean, I'm capable of doing anything in the world I want. But…in New Vegas…I was heart-broken. I was destroyed, missing Charon in the worst possible way and…and it showed. It showed in my merciless fights, in the men I bedded, in the cold demeanor I carried everywhere with me. All I can do now, now that I'm back home, where I belong, is beg him to stay.

Beg, and sacrifice more than he has. I'm not sure that's possible. I can't blow something up, and walk out of it, just to mirror his own actions. Even if we don't really know how the Citadel exploded, he still emerged from it. He still…held me close. Comforted me. Never once gave up on me. It's true, you know. Charon never once said enough was enough and walked away. It was all me. I never told him how much I appreciate him for that. How beautiful I think he is. How he's perfect for me in every way. How…how I need him.

When I couldn't remember who I was, Charon was there. He was there, telling me beautiful things, telling me all he could. He supported me, spent time with me, never once got sick of my antics. Carried me to safety, when my mind forced me to black out. In New Vegas, I got knocked out, and I woke up exactly where I had fallen, a few hundred caps less. No one helped me. No one was there when I opened my eyes, holding my hand, calling my name. It was just me. Only me. I never wanted it to be that way again.

Blinking, I think I see him. I rub my eyes to make sure, and when I look back I know. I know it's him. He's only been gone a few short minutes, but they've felt like hours. I smile at him, as his body comes into the light of my Pip-Boy. Charon. I can't hold myself back now. I feel his warm gun slide from my tight grip, as my feet float up from the dirt. I ran to him, fresh tears in my eyes. They're not tears of sadness, but rather, of happiness and relief. A voice in my head, tells me everything is going to be okay. I believe it, when I fall into his arms, wrapping myself around his torso as he stumbles, dropping the dead Molerat. Food…food has never been further from my mind.

"Dez? What's wrong?"

He asks, concerned as he wraps his hands into my matted and greasy hair. I rub my face into the chest of his leather armor, smiling, even though he can't see it.

"Nothing. Nothing everything…everything is perfect."

"Then why are you crying?"

I look up at him, a relieved smile spread wide. He brushes loose hair from my cheek, confused.

"Because…I have you, Charon. I have you."

I say before returning my face to his armor.

"Dez…"

He sighs, his lips making subtle contact with the top of my head. It's been five years, and I still love him. I love him more now, than I ever have before.

"Promise you'll stay?"

"I promise."

He tells me, quietly, we whisper as if someone is listening.

"You're my whole heart. Charon, you're…you're…"

"I'm what?"

"Just please tell me you'll stay."

"I will, Dezbe. I will stay, forever and after, if you need me to."

I don't inquire why he wants to. I don't ask why he feels so much for me. I simply accept it.

"Aren't you hungry?"

He asks, oblivious to the emotions I'm trying to hard to keep in check. Pulling from him, I nod, wiping my face with the back of my hand.

"Yeah…yeah I am."

Charon nods, and takes my hand. He leads me over, beside the tuck, and bends down to build a fire. I watch him with a newfound curiosity. He pays me no mind, as he uses his lighter to create a small fire. I can't help but smile at him, as I kneel in the dirt, my pre-war dress getting dirty. I don't care. For right now, the world spins only for us. A rare moment of peace in our lives, I want to take advantage of it. Memories of our time spent in Megaton play in my mind, and I smile at them, too. Everything back then seemed so serious, so important. Now…now it seems like…like one big joke. I should have been paying more attention to Charon, rather than…everything else. I should have realized everything before it was all too late. To calm my nerves, I blame it on childhood ignorance. Yeah.

"You have a peculiar look on your face, Dez."

I blink, returning to the moment I'm trying so hard to keep.

"No, just…remembering."

"New Vegas?"

"No…no us."

He stops skinning the dead Molerat and looks at me. Blood-soaked, combat knife in hand. I've never seen him more perfect before.

"What about us?"

"Just…us. All we've done, all we've been through. All…you've done, really."

"Hm."

He smirks, his eyes glowing by the fire. My stomach growls with hungry anticipation, but I push it back. I can eat anytime I want, now. It's not that important.

"Charon?"

"Hm?"

He says, absentmindedly, as he continues preparing the meat. I shake my head, standing. Walking over to him, I place my hand over his. He stops moving, and looks at me. Our faces are inches apart.

"I want to come home, with you."

"You are."

"No, Charon. I want to come home with you. Back into your life. Into your apartment, the one we shared. I want to…be a part of everything with you."

He drops his knife, sighing loudly. Glancing down at the sand, Charon blinks slowly. I begin to worry.

"The life I lead now…isn't one you would be interested in living. I work, simply to provide caps. There…is no longer the adventure you seek."

"Then, that's an adventure right there. Isn't it?"

Charon sighs again, still not looking at me.

"There is still Lily, Dezbe. I can…remove her from my romantic life, but not from my life. Her child…Mackenzie, I can't simply abandon them."

"I can be ruthless, if you need me to."

I tell him, hinting at something that'll probably get me an eternity in hell. But I figure I already have that, so it's alright. Charon sighs again, shaking his head still.

"No, Dez. I haven't figured out how this will work, exactly. Give me some time. I know you won't wait around forever, but just…time."

"I'll wait now, if I have to."

He looks at me, stunned.

"I mean, I won't take off or nothin'. It's…the least I can do. I know now, you've cared about me, you've loved me. There's…no doubt in my mind that…one day we can be better than what we were. If that makes sense."

Charon thinks over my statement carefully. He watches me with his eyes, as I kneel motionless in front of him. I watch his lips purse together in thought. Finally, he speaks.

"I still will not make you wait long."

"I trust you, Charon. It's…it's alright."

` I dream of gardens in the desert. I dream of cool, cool, rain, washing down over my body. In the coolness of the Capital Wasteland night, by the heat of the fire, Charon makes me silent promises. His hands, carefully maneuver the halter dress from my neck. Slowly, I take my time with each and every buckle that wraps around his body. Together, our layers peel apart, as we let our guards down. In the distance, there's danger, and impending doom. For now, we don't worry about that. We ignore the far off cries of people, the sounds of explosions, the flames of our fire that lick against the black backdrop of a starry sky.

The cold dirt presses against my bare thighs, as I lean forward to work the straps on Charon's pants while he kneels in front of me. The fire reflects off of him, distorting his body in imaginary ways. His bare hands gently move over the faded scars along my arms, as my heart pounds with want, lust, and anticipation inside of my bare chest. When I finally manage to pry the belts from his waist, he effortlessly slides his pants from his body. His hips maneuver between my thighs, as he bends down, pressing his warm, ghoul lips to mine. I feel his hands tugging at my hair, and feel his touch down the side of my neck.

As our lips part, I let out a soft moan of pleasure, at the touch of his hand on my breast. His lips find the nape of my neck, my hips move forward, touching his.

"Charon…"

I say, as his hands trace my stomach, my hips, my thighs. He feels and touches me, as if he's never done anything like this before. In the middle of the desert, two naked bodies combine. The warmth of the fire, the heat between us, is enough to chase away any chills. My dress lies somewhere near his armor, my bra and panties lost to the darkness. The fire crackles and pops, masking my cries of pleasure, from his simple touch.

"Are you sure?"

I ask, between bouts of deep breathing, between sessions of passionate kisses. Charon looks down at me, our bodies parted by mere centimeters. I run my hands along the front of his chest, feeling his coarse muscles, feeling his smooth skin.

"Yes."

He tells me, whispers to me in that guttural, accentuated voice of his. There's no trace of doubt or hesitation. I wrap my arms around his neck, feeling the warmth of his body. My thighs itch with growing anticipation, with want and desire.

"I want only you, Charon…"

I whisper to him, my lips grazing his as I talk. His kiss replaces words, as I motion with my hips that I want him in more than one simple way. He doesn't give in. He pulls back from me, pulling me up with him. I follow his fluid motions, as we kneel in front of one another. Effortlessly, he pulls me onto his lap, curling my naked body into his. I can feel him, all of him, so close to all of me. One swift motion and we could end this tease. End this feeling of desire and fulfill it, but…the tease is what makes it so much more special.

His lips kiss down my neck, as I shudder. Shudder in anticipation, rather than cold. I feel his hands rub my thighs, as he balances me on top of him. Opening my eyes slightly, as I lean back, I see a shooting star. Charon's lips, his hands, his body engulfs me. I place my hand on the back of his neck, picking myself up. I don't want to wait anymore. He doesn't resist, or move away, as I balance just inches above him. I wait for a notion, a movement or sign, that tells me to wait. There's none.

"Charon…"

I gasp, wrapping my arms around his shoulders, clinging to him for dear life as indescribable pleasure flows through my veins. Gently, slowly, Charon maneuvers our bodies, and lays me beneath him. His movements, are slow, teasing, taunting, building more and more passion and desire. His kisses quiet my soft moans, my soft cries, of his name and pleasure. I feel my thighs tighten around his, my bare feet, digging into the dirt. My hands travel up and down his back, clinging to him at moments, at instances. I feel alive, for the first time in five years. I feel emotions and feelings intensified more than they ever have been before.

His movements grow faster, his kisses harder. With a free hand, I push his shoulder. He feels my movement, my want and notion. He allows himself to lie on his back, letting me climb on top. By the light of the fire, I see him, really see him, for the first time. His chest is scattered with thick and large patches of skin. His muscles are a blood red, as they poke through his skin, defiant and toned. Veins bring blood to his racing heart, as his hands wander up and down the curves of my body. His neck muscles stretch, as he presses the back of his head down into the dirt. I lay my hands on his chest, using him to support my own weight.

Gently, I rock back and forth on top of him. When he opens his eyes, I see passion and fogged judgment. He can see the same in mine. His hands wander, giving my body more pleasure than it can take. I begin to quiver, to shake, my thighs giving way beneath it all. I try to pull off of him, try to prolong the sensations I'm feeling, but his hands rest firmly on my hips, keeping me in place. I give in. I shiver and moan in pleasure and desire, as Charon takes no mercy. He continues his movements, as beads of sweat form on his forehead. Though half-closed eyes, I watch as he closes his, and I feel entirely lost.


	32. Logic of all My Dreams

The dead Molerat lays on the other side of the fire, as Charon and I lie naked, entangled, in the soft dirt of the earth. He places soft kisses alongside my neck, moving wispy strands of hair from his path. His naked body presses against my own, as his hands trace along scars from the past.

"Hey."

He whispers. We've been comfortably quiet, for minutes that feel like days. I'm lost in the aftermath of it all. Lost, in my own lucid vision.

"Yeah?"

I whisper back, my voice calm, patient, at ease. His lips kiss the back of my neck one last time, before he rests his head down on the ground. I turn my head to look at him, a small smile creeping along my face.

"Come here."

He says, his arms wrapping around my body. It's always been the safest place for me. Entrapped in his arms, pressed tightly against his body. I've never felt more calm, more at ease, more invincible, than when he engulfs me.

"I want to do this every night."

I tell him, kissing his bare chest.

"We can."

He tells me, stroking my hair, softly kissing the top of my head.

"I feel safest, when you're this close to me."

"It's the safest place for you to be."

"I know."

The best part about Charon, is the lack of ability to impregnate me. In New Vegas it was a constant worry. Finding protection, getting it, convincing said partner to stop in the heat of the moment to put it on. With Charon, I never have to worry. He's as sterile as they come, and it's a perk I want to take advantage of.

"Tell me a story."

I tell him, as I close my eyes. I don't want to sleep, but I feel it creeping on.

"I've been dreaming about you."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

I smile, curling myself up into him more.

"About what?"

"We are in a field, always. It is warm, bright, sunny. There is grass for miles and miles. Your hair is long, you're smiling, always at me. I'm a human again, and you always beg me not to leave. It ends the same, all the time. You asking me to stay, and me promising. But you…never really believe me."

"Maybe your subconscious mind is telling you something."

"Yeah. That one day we'll be that happy, and I'll be human."

I sense the undertone of sarcasm, and a bit of upset. Picking up my head, I look at him.  
"I wouldn't have you any other way, you know."

"One can still feel inadequate."

"It's a waste of time. I fell for you. For the man you are, the ghoul you are."

Charon smirks at me, and rubs my cheek. He kisses me gently, and I rest my head back on his bare chest.

"You should rest."

I smile, at his consistency.

"You used to say that all the time in the past."

"Because you are stubborn and never rest."

"I'm hungry."

"We can eat in the morning."

I stay silent for a bit, feeling sleep come into my mind. Before I lose myself in it, I utter one more question to Charon.

"Will you be here, when I wake up?"

"Yes."

It's an acceptable answer, and I let myself fall into a dreamless sleep, in the safest place in the world. Wrapped up, in Charon's arms.


	33. Maturity

The rising sun wakes me. I open my eyes, feeling Charon's body behind my own. Gently, I slide myself from him, as I walk over to pick up my clothing. It's scattered all around the small campfire, and I smirk as I begin to scoop it from the ground. As I begin to figure out my underwear, my eye catches the sun. It's large, yellowish and pinkish. Over the high cliff we've slept on, I look out as it rises over the horizon. The light flushes the terrain in rays of warm, rays of light, rays of promising hope. Stopping what I'm doing, I sigh, looking out at it. I'm bare for all those around to see, watching the sunrise over the best place in the world. Ah, freedom.

Slipping on my clothes, I put my head through the top part of my dress. When I get back, I'm fitting myself in some Merc Adventurer uniform, and getting my hands on a decent weapon. I don't feel like myself in this stupid dress, and I don't feel safe unarmed. Plus, walking around this place without any shoes is quite aggravating. Looking down, I can see my feet are a bit dry and cracked. Sighing, I shake my head, and hear my stomach growl. We never did eat that Molerat last night.

"Charon."

I say, as I walk over to his still-sleeping, still-naked body. Nudging him gently with my toe, he snaps awake. Before he even opens his eyes, he has a firm hold on my ankle, and pulls me to the ground.

"Hey!"

I holler, knowing he's only acting out of his stupid instincts. Looking at him, he opens his eyes, calming down a bit.

"It's you."

He states, before letting my ankle go and sighing with relief.

"Well yeah it's me. Who the fuck else would it be?"

"An intruder."

"An intruder wouldn't wake you by name."

"True."

Getting up, I offer my hand to him. I'll admit I blush a bit, too. In the warming desert sun, and in the bright light of it all, Charon stands naked as the day he was born. Smirking just a little, I roll my eyes at him. Bending down, I grab his boxers, and toss them at him. Without shock, he catches them and slides them on.

"We should be home by later today."

He states. Wonder what took him so damn long to get to me, if it only takes us a few days to get back home. Ah, I don't care. Home is home, no matter how I get there or how much time it takes.

"I can't wait. A hot shower, warm food, and a good night's rest will do me some good."

I say, patting my still empty stomach.

"You do need to eat. You are skin and bones."

Charon says as he puts his pants on, fumbling with his buckles and belts.

"I need a shower more. I stink."

Charon rolls his eyes at me. Picking his black shirt off of the ground, he shakes it off before putting it on. So high maintenance. It's just going to get dirty again. Yawning, I motion to Charon for a cigarette. He looks at me, and shakes his head, snarling a bit.

"You need to get your priorities straight, Dez. You're nearly twenty-six."

"Well good morning to you too, sunshine."

I say as he hands me a cigarette. Lighting it, I blow smoke in the air and make myself comfortable on the leg-up near the driver's side door on the truck.

"I'm just saying, eating is more important than bathing. You should begin to think things over before you choose to do something."

I get the hint.

"Oh, so this is the speech where you say last night was a mistake, right?"

Well, why else would he lecture me on 'making the right choices'? Not only that, why else would he wake up in such a pissy mood? If he regrets last night I will punch him in the face. I swear I will.  
"What?"

He says, actually sounding astonished. This whole 'Charon being able to articulate his emotions through word emphasis' is really going to take some getting use to. Shrugging, I take another puff of my cigarette.

"You did it before. The whole regret thing."

"I don't regret anything. What gave you that idea?"

He walks over to me, and rests his arm on the roof of the truck. For a minute, he reminds me of Butch, and how he'd stand in the vault.

"You woke up pissy and lecturing."

"I woke up naked in the cold dirt on the hard ground. I didn't have the best sleep of my life, Dez."

"Oh."

"Come on. Let's go."

We leave the dead Molerat. I'm kind of sad, too, because I really wanted to eat that thing. I would have eaten the whole thing, too, but I guess more important matters got in the way. Like sex with Charon. That is very important. But still. Just because we had sex, doesn't mean I feel entirely sure of going back home. Home is great, with a bed, a bathroom, and food, but I mean…well, I don't know. I don't know what will happen, who will do what, or what Charon is plotting. Asking so early in the day seems pretty stupid, so I don't try to.

Instead, when we get in the truck and Charon starts it up, I rest my head against the rolled-up window. I have a lot of thinking to do, and not a lot of time to do it. I have to think about what my next move is, what my backup plan is. I have to figure out where I want to be, and how to get there. I'm not sure on any of that, though. My options are basically stay or go, when we get back to the tower. Wandering the Capital Wasteland without any rhyme or reason, seems sort of bland. I could return to Vault 101, and try to dig up things from my past I don't quite remember, but that could prove to work against me. I could help out some more people, but I'm no miracle worker. If I stay in the tower, I suppose I'd end up living with Charon. Not sure how, exactly, but I would.

Which makes what I'm thinking about next, hard. With this whole 'maturity' thing I've developed, comes this whole 'self sacrifice', and 'moral system'. I don't like it, but it's there, and I'm not sure what to do about it. If I do what I usually do, and take what I want at the expense of someone else, then…then a kid's out of a home. The old Dez wouldn't have cared. She sent children to their deaths and harassed the Little Lamplight crew. But now…now I don't think I'm capable of that. Shit, I only ever met Mackenzie once, but the way she looked up at Charon, and the way he protected them…it means something.

When we got back from Point Lookout, I'd see Charon around with that kid. He'd be carrying her, and she'd be clinging to him like he was her own real father. I'm not sure how it made me feel inside. A mixture of warmth, knowing Charon has a soft side, and a mixture of jealousy, knowing that it wasn't me he was taking care of. In the end, though, I don't really think it matters what I care about.

Charon has done enough for me, I decide. After all the times he's chased me, saved me, followed me, believed in me, and stuck by me, I have to give something back. I have to be mature, for once, and think of someone other than myself. I want Charon. I love him, more than I love the feel of a warm gun against my forearm. I'd do anything he asked me to, and probably more. But…but I know I can't have him. Thinking of this, doesn't make me sad. It does, I mean, in a way. It makes me sad to know that whatever fantasy he wants to make with me, has to stay just that. I know once we get home, and he sees them and looks back of me, there'll be guilt. There'll be guilt of what he's about to do, and to whom. I don't think I can put him through that, even if in a way he wants it, too.

Lily has no part in my choices. She is nothing, as far as I'm concerned. I mean, I don't hate the girl, I have no reason to. She's a bitch, but not worth wasting an emotion on. It's her goddamn kid that I'm giving a damn about. I know that Lily isn't even remotely able to provide for Mackenzie alone. The woman is unscarred, unscathed with the survival tactics it takes to live out here. Taking Charon from Lily would ultimately doom Mackenzie. I have enough blood on my hands as it is.

In the silence, Charon leans over and places his hand on my thigh. I look over at him, and he glances back, giving me a small smirk.

"You alright?"

He asks me as he sets his gaze back on the dirt, careful to avoid driving us off of one of the many cliffs out here.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just tired."

He nods and slips his hand in mine. I know that if I tell him I'm thinking, he'll inquire as to what I'm thinking about. If I don't tell him, he'll make me. I don't want to tell him yet, because I haven't quite figured it all out. Staying at the tower is my next thought. If I stay, and do what I'm half-planning to do, it'll be rough. Rough on both Charon and I. But like I said before, I can't just aimlessly wander the world.

"I wonder what Three Dog has to say."

I say, trying to take my mind off of the subject at hand. Charon lets my hand free, so that I can access my Pip-Boy.

"Hellooo Wastelanders! How y'all doin' out there this glorious morning? I know that you _hate_ hearing the same old shit every damn day, but today, there's a new update! Our gal from 101 has returned to the Wasteland! After demolishing all sense of security five years ago, the elusive bitch has returned. What she's back for, I don't know. What more can you take from us, 101? You've taken the Brotherhood, there's nothing left to take…"

I turn off my Pip-Boy, a bit annoyed and angered. At the same time, though, I'm a bit thankful for Three Dog.

"I think it's time he hears the truth."

Charon looks over at me, confused.

"Who?"

"Three Dog."

Charon cocks an eyebrow.

"What do you mean?"

"I think it's time I paid a visit to GNR and told Three Dog the truth."

"About what?"

"Me."

As crazy as it sounds, it's true. Three Dog never got a full story from me, just once when I went looking for information on my dad. A lot has changed since then, and he hears only one side of the story. I think that after five years, it's time for him to hear _my_ side. Not only will it kind of clear my name, but it'll give me a reason to leave the tower.

"You're just getting home, and you're going to go out again?"

Charon says, sounding a bit more than annoyed.

"No. I'll rest up for a few days, and head on out."

"If that is what you wish."

Charon assumes he's coming with me. He assumes that 'resting up' means moving into his apartment and kicking out Lily and Mackenzie. Right now, I don't have the heart to tell him. Wanting to inform Three Dog of the real truth, is a good excuse to get my ass out of Tenpenny Tower. From there, I can figure out what my next move will be. I can't tell Charon that…I'm leaving him again. Not right now, anyways. I'm leaving him for a good reason this time, though. And I'll come back, it won't be like New Vegas where I just vanished. I figure if I can't find something to do with myself after I talk to Three Dog, I can simply return home and crash on Gob's cot. But I can't take Charon away from Mackenzie. I can't let a little kid like that die out in the world. Lily doesn't need him for anything but Mackenzie, she does. She's the only one in the equation…who actually needs him. Probably more than I do, even.

Being mature, rational, and moralistic isn't something I like doing. But the time away, time I spent in New Vegas, caused me to be. I saw things that were actually crazier than things I saw in the Capital Wasteland. I realized that I couldn't go around acting like the whole world was all about Dez. Eventually, I had to grow up. And you know, I did. I grew up quite…well. I can sacrifice my own happiness, if it means sparing the life of someone who never did anything wrong. In a way, Charon just might be relieved with my choice. He won't have to live with the burden of kicking a defenseless woman and child out on the street. I know he's a man of morals, and that he's mentally kicking himself in the ass for what he thinks he has to do. Do for me. He's done enough for me. I can at least try at…well, make it up to him. In my own strange, small way.

"Dez?"

I hear him say. He catches me mid-thought, and I blink slowly before I look over at him.

"Yeah?"

"What are you thinking about?"

Charon picks up on things. I guess he picked up on my thinking.

"What's going to happen when we get home."

I tell him, so that way I can hear what he has to say. He sighs heavily, and digs around his pocket for the crumpled back of cigarettes. Handing one to me, he carefully lights us both as he tries to keep his eyes on the road.

"Is that a question or a statement?"

Charon asks me, and I take the risk.

"A statement."

He nods, blowing smoke out on the windshield.

"When we get back, I will tell Lily she must find a new home. She will argue and protest, but I will not have you waiting."

I nod, but don't say anything. For now, I want to believe his words, and give into the pipe dream. When we get home, I'll tell him. Pull him aside, tell him that I'm going to GNR but will be back. I'll tell him he's done enough, and I'm doing this for him, and for the damn kid. Just thinking about it hurts, though, so I can't imagine how it'll be when I actually have to do it.

"Charon?"

"Hm?"

"How long until we get home?"

We've been driving for a while. The sun is a bit higher in the sky, and the air is a lot hotter. I'm itching to get back, to see Gob, and to take a nice shower.

"Not long."

"Good."

We're silent again, for a few short minutes, before Charon breaks it.

"You said earlier that I regretted things I did with you."

The statement is so far out of left field, that I have to think for a minute. I stare at him, dumbfounded, before I remember what exactly he's talking about.

"I was thinking of Point Lookout when I said it. You know, when you kissed me then took it back."

Sometimes, Charon needs a swift kick in the mental ass to get him going. I plan on giving that to him from time to time, just like I've always done.

"…Dez, I never _regretted_ anything between us. I felt bad for the action, because of Lily, but I never regret anything we did or do."

He speaks like it's serious. I was only joking and being sarcastic when I said that, but he took it so literal.

"I know. I just, assumed I guess. I was playing around."

"It just bothers me, to think that you may still have insecurities about how I feel towards you."

"Where are you getting all these ideas? Your ass is never-ending if that's where they're coming from."

Charon chuckles a bit, as I roll down my window and rest my chin on the door.

"I've just been thinking of our past is all."

He tells me, his tone soft. I think I'm going to like how he speaks now, because I can tell how he's feeling. I like that.

"Yeah, we have a big one."

"Yes, we do."

With the warm sun on my face, I let out a quiet sigh. A long, enduring past. I never thought back then I'd look on it all and call it the 'good old days'. With all the soon-to-be events, it seems that way.

"In Point Lookout, you mentioned a ghoul named Raul."

Charon, is that jealousy I sense in your voice?

"Yeah. I helped him out."

"How?"

Shrugging, I turn to look at him, my head still out the window. The warm wind the truck makes feels nice against my skin.

"Just helped him out of trouble. He was a friend of mine for a while."

"What kind of friend?"

I find it a bit humorous that Charon has a bit of jealousy towards the ghoul, but not of the human boys. I can really toy with this.

"A good one. He was nice to me, and we shacked up for a bit."

"Romantically?"

I give him a coy smile before answering. I like seeing him worry. Reminds me that for a little while longer, I'm still his priority.

"No. He wanted to but…"

"But?"

"But I couldn't. Not…not so soon after leaving you."

"So this was recent?"

"Well, he was kind of like the Gob of New Vegas. He was nice to me, and I needed niceness. I kept him around until…well, until he gave me an ultimatum, really."

"What was that?"

"Either be with him, or don't."

"So you were romantic."

"No. We shared a bed when it got cold at night. When…I was sad he would comfort me, and sometimes kiss me. It never went any further than that."

"I see."

He's mad. Jealous, that there was another ghoul in my life. Truth be told, Raul and I had a platonic relationship just like Gob and I have. The only difference is I saw Raul as a real confidant. I told him bits and pieces about Charon, and when I did I got sad. When I got sad, he helped me. Comforting kisses once in a blue moon isn't 'romantic' in my eyes.

"He just helped me through some things, is all."

"What kind of things?"

"Things pertaining to you, actually."

I don't think I've ever really told Charon how much I missed him back in New Vegas. Maybe now would be good to talk about it. That way, when I tell him I'm leaving for GNR without him, and that he needs to stay with Lily and Mackenzie, he won't be too pissed. Taking my head from the window, I throw out my cigarette and roll it up. If I'm going to tell him, it has to be quiet.

"In New Vegas, it wasn't all fun. I mean, at times it was, but…the bad outweigh the good. At nights…I'd cry. There's no stars out there, and it was always so bright. When I'd go to my room, alone, it'd creep up on me. I could go a full day without thinking about you, but the second I was alone, you were all I could think about. I would cry a lot, because…because I felt so alone. Because you weren't there. I'm not one to admit this type of shit, but Charon I really did miss you. I spent night after night, mulling things over in my head, wishing you'd follow, that you'd appear miraculously in town. But you never did. Dealing with all of that alone, gets hard."

He clenches his jaw and the steering wheel. I'm not sure if he's thinking, or flat out mad.

"Then why didn't you come back sooner, if you missed me so much?"

I feel like he's attacking me, but I know he's just trying to figure it all out. Five years is a long time to be gone. It's a long time for changes to take place, for events and series to happen and for things to shift. I'm sure after some time, Charon simply gave up anticipating my return. Now that I'm back, for the time being, and we're back to square one of our relationship, he wants to figure everything out. He has a right to know.

"…Because I couldn't."

"Why?"

"Charon, I left. How do you think it would look if I left, and then came back all in the same year? I couldn't…allow myself to be that…weak. I wanted to prove to myself I could live free, that I didn't need anyone. I needed to figure out who I was, and here, I couldn't do that. In New Vegas it was hard, and I never did find what I was looking for."

"So you stayed away because you wanted to see if you could live freely?"

"Yeah. Put it in terms of your contract. I felt I had one to the people here, and I didn't want to live by it."

"I can understand that. What I can't understand is why it took five years."

"Guess I just lost track of time. Would have come back sooner but, never had a way. Didn't want to walk."

Again, Charon falls silent. I glance over at him, knowing he's processing what I've told him.

"I don't understand how one loses five years."

Then it snaps. Something in my mind, that I've never really felt before, snaps. I look at Charon. I look at him, and I feel…_angry_. I've never felt angry like this. Angry at him like this.

"It was because of you, Charon."

"Me?"

"Yes. Yes you."

"How?"

I ball my hands into fists, as I reach for the cigarettes on the dash.

"Because…I could…never measure up to you. Because you were always better than me at _everything_ and I wanted to…I wanted to detach myself from that. I wanted to cry, and not be seen as weak. I wanted to trust people, and not worry if a piece of paper would take them away. For the first time in my life, I wanted to feel heartbreak because someone dumped me, and not because someone simply _left_. After all we've been through, I wanted to be free. I had to learn how to lead a semi-normal life, with a normal person, with…a human."

"…And did you? Did you learn all you set out to learn?"

His tone is forceful, accusing, because he knows before I even have to speak.

"…No. I didn't."

And I didn't. Night after night, day after day, I spent thinking, missing, and wanting Charon. I never let myself fall in love again, never let myself trust anyone, never did anything I had initially set out to do. I want to blame Charon for that, but it's really not his fault. After all, it was me who kept thinking of him. He…he got over me. He was able to move on, and find something better. In the looks department, anyways. Me? The only thing I ever had even remotely close to what Charon makes me feel is a handful of boot-knocking sex sessions. But I was drunk, so I figure my mind is just making me think it was good.

"Alright then."

"But you did. You didn't go anywhere, and you fell in love all over again. It's not fair, that you were able to…get over me so easy, and you didn't even have to try. I tried, and I couldn't."

Charon looks at me, a bit angry. What did I do now?

"I never 'got over' you, Dez. A day didn't go by where I didn't wonder about you, how you were, what you were doing and if you were alive. How I feel for you is entirely different than how I feel for Lily."

"_You_ were the first thing I remembered when my memory came back. Not my mother, my father, or anything of greater importance. It was _you_ and that stupid fucking moon. You get to make such a huge impression on me, and what do I get? A homecoming to your happy family."

"Dez, you _are_ important to me, and you always have been. I didn't find Lily and she swept me off of her feet. I helped her out of kindness and things went from there."

"Yeah. Right."

"If it wasn't for you, Dez, I'd still be under contract doing whatever my employer wanted. I wouldn't know the wiser, and we wouldn't be sitting here. So stop pity-partying yourself. You've made an impact on me. But when you think someone is dead and gone, you have to move on."

"…I thought you were dead, and I still came back."

"What? When?"

"Fort Bannister. I thought that you were dead. But I came back."

Charon sighs and lights his own cigarette. I exhale smoke as I crack the window so the cabin doesn't get so smoky.

"It wasn't like I was halfway across the country though, Dez. What did you want me to do? Follow blindly and hope our paths crossed? It's big out there, it was better if I waited and stayed."

He's right. I'm just mad because…well I need him. I never needed anybody before Charon, and I don't like it. I love him, but I don't like it because its opened so many new things to me. When we get home, all I get to do is say goodbye again. All I get to do is cry more, and live my life alone and lonely. I guess it's not so bad, though. I mean…I can do what I want. Be who I want to be with. I can drink my days away and stay up all night. Saying it like that makes it sound fun, but…shit I know it won't be.

"You're right. I'm just…I don't know, tired I guess."

"Well, we're home now."

Looking out of the windshield, I see the tower in the close distance. Home. Yeah. But for how long? A couple days, I guess. My heart begins to pound as we get closer and closer, because I know I'll have to tell Charon soon. I know that once we arrive, I'll have to tell him that I'm leaving without him. And…that I want him to stay with Lily, for Mackenzie.


	34. I Left My Body in the Sands of Time

Charon parks the truck beside the fence that keeps everyone out of Tenpenny Tower. My hands grow clammy from nerves, as my greasy, limp hair brushes my shoulders. I lean against the bed, smoking nervously. Charon notices my lack of excitement, and comes over. I flinch as he puts his arm around me, and he notices that, too.

"Dez?"

His voice drags in my ears. I don't want to miss it. I want to hear it forever and ever, and never forget how it sounds.

"Yeah?"

Playing stupid, I look up at him. His arm hangs around my shoulders, and it takes all I have not to look away.

"What's wrong?"

I take my time. I look at him, examine him, soak him up into my mind. I never want him to leave my side, but I know this is how it has to be. What kind of person would I be, if I let an innocent kid die? Then it would mean New Vegas was nothing but a vacation. It would mean I didn't learn anything from it. I'm not a perfect person, I try, and I learn. I never meant to hurt Charon, in all the ways that I have hurt him. I want him to know a million and one things, but I can't find the words to express them. That even though I went to New Vegas, what I was searching for has been with me this whole time. I just didn't realize it. I let my foggy and delusional daydreams and fantasies warp that. I wish I didn't. I truly do.

"…I think you need to stay with Lily and Mackenzie."

I tell him so fast, so slurred, that I'm scared of having to repeat myself. Biting my lip, I stare at him nervously. His face changes, he's surprised, and he grips my shoulders tightly. I'm scared for a minute, he'll shake me.

"Why do you say that?"

He asks, very, very seriously.

"Because…you need to. Lily can't fend for herself, let alone a kid. You're the only thing keeping that kid alive, too. I've seen how she…looks at you. She needs you, Charon. I can't…take that away from her."

"And what about your trip to GNR?"

"I'll go alone. You won't follow me. You have to stay here, and take care of your responsibilities."

"As shocked as I am for your show of maturity, I can't believe it, Dez. I let you go once, and I refuse to let it happen again."

I shake my head at him, a sad smile forming on my face. Slowly, I take his hands off of me, tears fighting to break through to the surface.

"Charon, this is hard enough. I'll come back, alright? Right after I talk to Three Dog, I'll come back. You won't have to worry, but you do have to take care of Mackenzie. You have to stay."

I lie to him. I boldface lie to him. I won't come back, not right away anyways. I have to figure all this out, figure out if I'm going to…be able to deal with this. I've taken an entire walk around the world, and I still couldn't figure out how to live without him. Charon's blue eyes stare into mine, and I examine his face. Muscles stretch, showing pumping veins bringing blood to his brain, and back down again. Skin hangs for dear life, as air flows from where his nose once was. This ghoul, this…man, has held my hand through the hardest part in my life. And now, here I stand, doing the hardest thing I've ever had to do.

"If…this is what you want then…"

He trails off. His eyes look away from mine, and he stares off at something in the distance. I watch as he moves away, walks a few feet from me, and lights a cigarette.

"You never cared about anyone else before, Dez."

"…She's a baby, Charon."

I say in reference to Mackenzie.

"I know."

"I can…handle myself just fine without you. I've done it for five years. I can do it again."

"But what if you're in trouble again? How will I know?"

"You underestimate me, Charon. I'm alone. I don't get myself into situations like that alone."

He shakes his head.

"I won't know. It'll be the same, as when you left for New Vegas. Not knowing…bothers me. What if you need me?"

"It's not your job to save me, Charon. You have a place here now, a home, a purpose. I'm going to GNR, then I'll be back."

Charon sighs at me. He looks at me again, as smoke exhales and dances in the wind.

"It was my job, to keep you safe. As my employer, you were my main priority. Even after that ended, you still were."

I want him to pick me up. I need him so badly right now. I feel so weak, so exposed. It wasn't like this when I left for New Vegas. Back then, it was easier. I knew I was going to come back, knew I was going to see him again. Now…now I'm not so sure. He has a family now, he's changed in so many ways and we've both seen so many things without the other. Who did this? Who made this horrible distance between us? Who made the tears flow from my eyes, as I look at him with his back to me? I don't know. Time, perhaps. Maybe. Changes, events, people, places, things. I don't know. All I know is, this is the hardest thing I've ever had to do.

"I can look after myself. It'll be alright."

I tell him, not feeling as confident as I sound.

"I hope so, Dez."

He turns to me, and I half anticipate him to hug me. If he does, I won't be able to follow through with my plans. I feel it in my bones. If he holds me, kisses me, I'll succumb to my emotions. He held me every night, watched me cry, offered me comfort and support, let me lean on him, he never thought of anything or one else, except for me. I was so young, so stupid, so naive. Giving someone who meant, means, so much to me, for the benefit of someone else kills. It's an indescribable feeling of pain, of hurt, of childish fear and despair. But I know it's for the better. I know I'm not acting out of my own reckless attitude. That this time, someone truly needs him, someone can really benefit from his presence. If that kid is safe anywhere, it's with Charon.

In the silence of the Capital Wasteland, beside Tenpenny Tower, Charon leads me back inside. He walks with his head held high, his back straight, and it kills me. Each step I take feels like my last, as if my legs are giant bricks of steel. I want to cry, to shake and fall down into a heaping ball of nothing. But that would be weak. I'm not weak. All I have to do, is remind myself that Mackenzie is going to be okay. If I smile, and I don't believe this is reality, then I know I'll wake up. One day. Eventually.


	35. Your Hands, They Shake The Goodbyes

(Charon)

Lily welcomes me back well. When I open the door to my apartment, she greets me with unexpected surprise and cheeriness. I feel stiff, as I wrap my arms around her, as I embrace her. Her body, holds no light to Dez's. Lily's smooth arms wrap around my neck, as I bend down to return the embrace. I feel nothing beneath her dress. No indents of scars, no straps where guns should be, nothing but the sheer smoothness of her body. This should feel nice, feel arousing, but I feel nothing.

"You came back."

Lily says, pulling from me, and looking at me. There are tears in her round face, but I know better. I know this is her way of pretending she enjoys my company. Enjoys me, so that I may stay and provide for her. Her long, blonde hair is smooth, as it blows in the wind of the open balcony door. It is well kept, clean, neat. It is a high contrast to Dez.

"Yes, I did."

"Are you here to stay?"

Her tone tells me she is eager, anticipating and expecting the worst.

"Aside from jobs, yes."

On the drive home, I formulated ways and plans to tell Lily. To tell her she must leave the tower. I thought of scenarios and actions I could take to rid my life of her. Then…Dez decided she didn't want me to. She decided to leave here, to go off once more, and made it clear I was not to follow. Her excuse for this, was Mackenzie.

Mackenzie laughs, her head poking through the balcony door. She sees me, and her smile widens. I smile back, crouching down to her level. I can understand Dez's stance, but it is not like her. She isn't the ruthless person I left five years ago, and I can't help but think of it as a vice.

"Charon!"

Mackenzie says, running towards me. I open my arms to her, and scoop her up in them. Playfully, I toss her into the air and catch her. She laughs, it is her favorite game to play with me. I laugh along with her, but I do not feel the joy that comes from my own laughter. Inside, I feel empty, knowing that tomorrow when I wake, it will not be Dez beside me. I should be proud of her, for being so selfless in one of the most important choices she's ever made. But I can't be. Because I expected to do something totally different. Right now, I didn't expect myself to come home and embrace Lily. I had planned on coming here with Dez, and watching as Lily took her belongings. It never mattered to me, how they survived out there. Perhaps because last night meant so much to me.

Having Dez back in my arms, in my life…I can't describe it. I had missed the way she moved, breathed, quivered and shook with each movement our bodies made together. We took our time, took it slow, by the light of the fire. Her kiss, gentle touch, and moans drove me mad. I decided that night, all I wanted to do was be that way with her for the rest of our lives. She promises now, she'll return, but she once said that five years ago. I know Dez, and I know she isn't coming directly home after GNR, and if she does I will be shocked. I also know now, that if she doesn't return, then it truly is over. There will be no more dwelling, no more not knowing, no more nothing. I haven't told her, but I never truly did move on. I acted as if I did, because I figured it was what was expected of me.

"Charon? You look hungry. Would you like to go down and get a bite to eat?"

Blinking, I shuffle Mackenzie into my arms, and look down at Lily. She stares at me, pretend concern across her face.

"Yes."

Roy hates humans. The only reason Dez and Lily are allowed to freely come and go, is because he is intimidated by me. He will not risk an altercation with me, if any harm comes to either one of them. A part of me wishes he would. I wish that he would be crazy enough to banish Lily from the tower, but I know better. I know he will not, and I will not tell him to. Even as Lily takes my arm in hers, and kisses my bicep, I am not fooled. This human, she holds nothing for me. And I must listen and obey and act as if all is well, because it is what Dez wants. Because it is what is right.


	36. Best Friend

(Gob)

I sent the damn kid down to get some food. Handed her a handful of caps, and had to damn near drag her to the stairs. I was shocked she came back, to be honest. Was putting Zack to sleep when she pounded on my door so hard I swear the old thing was going to break down. Zack's been feeling pretty sick, and radiation won't help the common cold, so he sort of just slept through her little episode.

I let the damn kid in, shocked of course that she was back, and she told me everything. I was only half-listening because shit, I was shocked. She was thinner than the damned wooden elevator doors, and had tired bags under her eyes. Usually the kid kept a good level of meat on her bones, keeping her lean but not sickly. Now she just looks _sick_. I ended up hearing about why, and what happened, though. Told me how she was taking off to GNR once she felt better, and damn she should. It's been long enough, and Three Dog has to stop shitting on her name.

But it didn't make me feel any damn better. When she told me of her whole 'selfless act of kindness'. My outlook? Fuck 'em. And shit, I _have_ a kid. It ain't Dez's fault Lily can't provide for her mistake. Don't take away the one good thing that's happened to either one of my friends. But shit I didn't say that. Damn kid is frazzled enough. Sent her down for a cold shower and a hot meal. She'll probably still be upset, but at least she'll feel better physically. I wish there was a way I could help her out, fix it for her even, but there's nothing. All I can really do is offer an open ear and comfort her when she needs it.

I must say, though, Charon's a shitbrain for listening to her. She's somehow got herself stuck in this whole righteous mindset, and a swift kick in her ass will get her out of it. If Charon wasn't so goddamned wrapped up in doing what she wanted, I'm sure he'd give it to her. I want to, but it ain't my place. Plus I wouldn't sound like such a good parent for sayin' to leave a kid to die in the Wastes. Shit, though, I can take care of mine, and people die every damn day. The kid wants what she wants, though, whether or not it's good or bad.

I hear the door behind me open, and I turn around. Since I'm reading over some pre-war book I found at my desk, I have to swivel the old wooden chair around to face Dez.

"How was your meal, kid?"

She looks better. Her hair is damp from the shower, and already the cuts and scrapes on her hands look like they're healing. Her stomach is full, and there's a bit more color in her face.

"Nice."

She says, sitting down on my bed. Got herself a new uniform. She tosses it down on the floor though, wearing only her tank top and shorts. I never really noticed just how many scars the kid had before. They're all over her legs and arms and neck and torso. Dez catches me staring and I feel bad. I fuckin' hated it when people would stare at me.

"It's alright. I know, walking freak show."

Coming from a smoothskin, it makes me laugh. The scars aren't even that bad, even. They're just pink, not really prominent. The only prominent thing is the bone showing on her collarbone, and the bare muscles open on her wrist. I figure she'll tell me about those when she wants to, though.

"Can hardly see them, actually."

"_You_ saw them."

"Cuz I was lookin'."

Dez sighs and shakes her head at me. She looks over at Zack, sleeping in his small home-made bed in the other room, and smiles.

"He's gotten big."

She says, staring at him.

"He wouldn't be here, kid, if you didn't help."

If Dez didn't knock Moriarty somethin' silly, I don't think I'd be here. If she didn't do half the shit she's pulled, I'd prolly be back in Paradise Falls, kickin' it with some other ghoul slaves. Not my idea. Life now, seems so much better.

"Gob?"

"Yeah?"

"You miss her?"

"Who?"

"Nova."

I sigh. Getting up, I walk over and sit next to the kid. She looks at me. Even though there's life in her damn eyes, she's still sad. If I could do anything for this girl, it'd be to make her happy.

"Yeah, kid. I miss her every day. Maybe if I had a picture of her, things would be easier, but I don't. I jut try not to let it get me down. She'd want me to be happy."

"How…did you learn to live without her?"

"I had to, kid. Ain't no way to bring someone back."

She bites her lip and rests her head on my shoulder. I still can't figure what's with these smoothskin girls. First her, then Nova, all wanting to hug and touch me. I'm a damn corpse. Ah, I shouldn't complain.

"Thinkin' about Charon?"

I ask, putting my arm around her.

"Yeah. I guess if he didn't have Lily, things would be different."

"They still can be. You're just being stubborn."

"No, I'm not. I'm being realistic. Charon's a lot different than what he used to be. And I miss the old Charon. Never thought I'd say that."

Dez chuckles, but I can see those tears runnin' down her damn cheeks. With my hand, I clean her face off. Sometimes I really do treat her like a kid.

"Hey, don't be wastin' your tears on Charon. He's a chump."

"Never heard someone call him that. Lots of other things, but never that."

"Yeah well that's cuz I'll tell ya the truth."

She smiles up at me, and I smile back down at her. This damn kid changed the world, and she don't even know it.

"You've always been honest, Gob. You're my only friend out here."

"What about Charon?"

Dez stays quiet for a bit. Damn I don't want to hear what I think I'm about to.

"It's better this way."

"Goddamnit, no it's not. You two are so fucking stupid sometimes. You know, he's just gonna follow you or you're gonna come back here."

"Of course I'm coming back, Gob. I can't leave you behind."

"Me?"

Dez looks up at me, I'm flabbergasted. Me? What the hell? What position of importance do I hold to her?

"Yeah. I can't just vanish again. I mean, I have to come back and let you know I'm alright. After all this, I'll be lucky if you even still want to talk to me."

"What? Why wouldn't I want to talk to you?"

"I don't know. Because I take off all the time."

I chuckle and hug her. She's so stupid sometimes.

"Kid, I know you're smart, and I know you're always gonna come back to see me. Been that way since you crawled out of that vault."

Dez looks at me. There's tears in her eyes, and shit it breaks my heart. Charon's a prick for taking in Lily, and he's a prick for not standing up for what he wants. If Nova tried this, I would have nipped it in the bud and set down my rules. But I guess that's what makes Charon and I different. I follow my heart, and he follows his head.

I hold Dez a bit tighter, huggin' her cuz she can't seem to stop blubbering over Charon.

"…You remind me of Raul."

She whispers as she holds on to my dirty white top.

"Who?"

"Raul. A ghoul I met in New Vegas. He'd…comfort me like this. Whenever I would cry about Charon."

"You really love Charon, don't you, kid?"

"Yeah. But right now, I just want someone to comfort me."

In time the damn kid will tell me what goes on in her head. For now I listen to her. I get up and shut Zack's door, and then I walk over and shut off the damn lights. Dez watches me like a stupid cat, those piercing eyes of hers trailing my every move. Shit it's not like I'm gonna take off or nothin'. Still though, Dez watches me until I sigh and stand in front of her. I don't know the first thing about comforting her. With Nova I'd just lie in bed and chill until she fell asleep. Dez…not so much.

"You wanna take my bed tonight, kid?"

I fold my arms in front of me, kinda feelin' like I'm scolding someone for doin' somethin' bad. In the dark, I see Dez shrug, then nod.

"Yeah. I guess."

"Alright, I'll be on the cot if you need me. Just holler."

"I need you!"

She hollers. I cringe and wait to hear Zack's little voice wakin' up, but thank god all I hear is the silence of the tower. Sighing, I shake my head at her, and sit down beside her.

"Alright, alright. I didn't mean _literally_ holler. What is it?"

She throws herself on me, and damn I'm a bit shocked. I didn't expect Dez to be so goddamned emotional and all. Out of the blue, sort of, the damn kid just attaches herself to me and squeezes me like I'm some fuckin' ragdoll. Eh. I guess for her I can be. I owe her that much. So I don't mind when she half-drags me to the top of the bed, and pulls the damned blanket over us and curls next to me like a wounded dog. I don't, because I owe her. And because she's probably the only other being besides Zack who I feel for.

I can't help but feel a bit odd, though. I mean shit, if Charon were to walk in here right now with his no-knocking nonsense, I'd be pretty much a dead man. I ain't doin' nothin' wrong, but it looks it. Dez all curled up and almost on top of me, and me letting her do it. I don't want to think about what Charon will do to me if he finds out.

"Am I making you uncomfortable?"

Her voice is muffled from my shirt, and it's damn soft, too. I look down, even though it's dark, and I can see the whites of her eyes.

"No uh, I mean, not really."

"I can leave."  
"No, really, it's fine."

Dez sighs, peaceful, closing her eyes slowly. I stroke her hair, trying to make her feel better. I'm not sure how well I'm doing that, though. Absentmindedly, I kiss the top of her head. She wiggles a bit under the covers, then stops.

"You're my best friend, Gob."

"I know."

"You're my only friend."

"Now don't be goin' that far."

"You are, though."

I know where this is goin'. Women do some crazy shit when they're bein' crazy, which is all the damn time. Dez is no exception. So I do my best to maneuver myself away from her a bit. I don't need no one barging in here and alerting Charon that I'm trying to get with his woman. And I don't care what the hell either one of them says, that's his woman, and he's her man.

"Gob?"

Dez holds fast to my arm, and I sigh. I was tryna scoot my ass out of the bed, but she caught me.

"Yeah kid?"

"Don't leave. Please."

I can't deny her. I mean, shit, she's always been special to me, and she needs me. I can try my best to make sure it don't go above harmless cuddling. But shit I'm a man, and Dez is an emotionally distraught woman. I really hope I live long enough to see the sun tomorrow.

"Alright, kid. Let me just take my boots off."

I sit up and swing my legs over. I take my time unlacing my boots because well, I'm wry. I don't want Dez getting all…sexual. Nova would do it countless times, before she ever even admitted to having feelings for me. The girl would burst into my room, high on Jet or Psycho, and throw herself at me like I was the last man on Earth. I tried to be moralistic, and fight her off for her own safety, but eventually I caved in. Shit if I didn't, I wouldn't have ever known the damn girl loved me though.

Eventually I work my boots off and sigh. Shit. Looking over my shoulder, Dez lays in my damn bed, her face all wet and her hair all everywhere. I ain't got no choice. So I lie back down, and I sigh. She places herself against me, and I put my arm around her.

"Gob?"

"Yeah?"

"You don't like laying with me."

I do. It's just, I'd like to keep what skin I have, on my body.

"I uh…I do it's just…kid I wanna keep my skin."

"No one is going to skin you, Gob. We're not doing anything wrong."

She's right and I have to hand that to her.

"Yeah. I know."

She scoots herself so close, I can feel the moistness of her cheeks against my neck.

"I just really need someone right now."

"Why don't you talk to Charon?"

"Because I can't, Gob. I can't go up there and tell him I need him, tell him I love him or any of that, even if I want to. Even if…I'd do anything to be able to."

"Why?"

"It's _over_, Gob. As long as Lily and Mackenzie have to stay here, then I can't. Because I can't send that damn kid to her death. She didn't do anything wrong. Lily I can kill myself but Mackenzie…no."

As crazy as this sounds, Dez does have a point. Shit, though, I don't want to believe it's over. No one else in this goddamned world will support Dez and Charon. Shit even Dez and Charon won't support Dez and Charon. But I will. They deserve one another, and they deserve to be happy with one another. I can't do jack shit, though. I mean, what? Am I supposed to go up to Lily and tell her to piss off? Damn bitch would laugh right in my face. I'd laugh, too, if I was yelling at myself.

"Whenever I cry…I know that Charon thinks I'm weak."

"What gives you that idea?"

"He's Charon."

"True."

She sniffles, and I rub her back a bit harder. I could roll on my side, turn and face her, but that'd be too damn close for my comfort.

"Did you know I used to play piano?"

She did? Dez can play an instrument? Not only that, a _classical_ instrument. Shit if anything, I'd expect her to be pounding on a guitar or at least a bass. But the piano?

"You did?"

I look down at her, utterly shocked.

"Yeah. I used to play it all the time in the vault. Charon he…he played with me once."

"_Charon_ can play piano, too?"

Dez smiles up at me, as if she's proud of him for that.

"Yeah. We both can. We played together once. I used to…love playing the piano. I haven't in so long, though. I know how to read music, too."

"Well, I never would have guessed."

"There's a lot of things you wouldn't guess about me, Gob."

"Indulge me, then."

For one, this gets her mind off of Charon. And for two, it calms her down, leaving me in the safe-zone. I learn a lot about Dez. Like how she used to be a loner in the vault, and how her and her dad never once saw eye-to-eye. She tells me all she can remember, tells me things about her and Charon I never would have guessed. She tells me when she first cried to him, when she first knew she loved him, and when he comforted her in all her times of pain. Then, she talks about this song. I know I've heard it before, but it's been so damn long. She claims Charon gave it to her, and she's always carried around this piece of paper with the words and notes on it. I find that kind of cute. Her voice fluctuates when she talks about tender moments. It makes me feel sad for her.

"I tried my best, Gob. I tried my best with everything I did, and it all went wrong. But…but I'll still stand up, Gob."

"Stand up for what?"

"For whatever I want. I'll come back to the tower, and I'll stand up for Charon, and me, and the world if I have to."

"Dez, you don't have to prove anything to anyone anymore."

"I do, though, Gob. I have to prove things to myself."

"Why?"

She sighs, yawning and closing her eyes.

"Because I'm the only one left now."


	37. Lies and Hidden Danger

(Charon)

I've seen her. A handful of times over these past two weeks. Her face grows rounder, her body filling out more. The curves I adored so much, returned in a matter of days as she walked around the lobby and grounds, shoving pieces of food down her throat. I'd never see her empty handed. Or doing nothing. If she wasn't eating in the lobby, she was working on her target practice on the grounds. Going through gun after gun, I'd watch as she would fire every weapon available in the tower, discarding it.

Until she found one she liked, that is. I watched from afar, making sure she wasn't distracted by me. She chose one called The Kneecapper. A modified sawed-off, really. I watched as she tossed it carelessly from hand to hand, practiced taking it from both her hip and back, and took quick aim at the targets she had placed up. It suits her, that gun. Since as far back as I've known Dez, she's always had a shotgun.

But I haven't seen her in a while. I've been preoccupied with family matters. Much to my dismay, Lily has been dragging me everywhere around the tower, as if it is something new to her. I feel she is trying to make an effort with me, trying to show me she doesn't want me to leave. It doesn't change my mind. Her pitiful attempts at a real relationship are so outlandish that sometimes I have to stifle a chuckle at her. Even if she was the perfect woman, she would not be so for me. I have always cared for, and loved Dez.

It is not simply a puppy love, either. Not because Dez was the first person to break me free of my contract, or the constraints of it, but…because she was the first person to view me as her equal. I mattered to her, when I never mattered to anyone else. It fills me, with sadness and anger, to know that soon she will departing. I've been keeping an extra careful eye out for her, worried that she has already left. This time, I will ensure her return, in my own way.

"Charon? Would you like to go out for a picnic today?"

A picnic in the Wastes is not the same as one in pre-war times. It is not enjoyable to me, to have a picnic at all, or to even leave the grounds with Lily and Mackenzie. Mainly because I must constantly be on guard. I must watch out for animals or Raiders while Lily and Mackenzie blindly run, play and enjoy themselves. The only purpose I serve to them out there, is a bodyguard. I see the irony in that statement, because it was all I was to Dez for a long period of time. But at least Dez enjoyed my company on her own, and didn't fake it.

In one of our first days together, I witnessed a part of Dez that moved me. Her anger, rage and fury caused me to…I'm not quite sure. Grow curious of the girl, perhaps. To this day, I do not know what caused her anger and pain, but I was able to see it acted out. Under an old, highway overpass, Dez ordered me to kill her. When I refused, she threatened to do it herself. I have never been placed in that kind of a situation before, and I did not know how to react to it. I simply followed what I believed I was suppose to follow, and asked her why. I told her she was a sad and lonely little girl, and after a few short words, the conversation, and her gun, was dropped. From that day onward, I began to care for her. Began to realize that I wanted to help this person, this girl, who seemed to have so much anger, rage and hostility not towards anyone else, but towards herself.

Many events took place after that. Small events, but events nonetheless. Tidbits of actions presented by both parties, proving slightly to the other that we were beginning to care for one another. More important, that I was beginning to…become _normal._ I have never been 'normal'. Any person I could have become, been, in the past was stripped away from me before it even had a chance to manifest. Any morals I had back then, are not the morals I have now, and any person I wanted to be, I can never be now. It seems as if in my life, there is a line. A line that parts me now, from the me in pre-war. I was…different in pre-war times, than I am now. Much, much different.

All I ever thought of was my job, nothing more, nothing less. Few things brought me inner warmth, even fewer things I saw purpose in. I simply received my objectives and carried them out as told. When people would speak with me, I never retorted in a plausible answer, one made and articulated within my own mind. I simply stated what I assumed would be the best answer, and continued on my way. Someone would tell me a joke, and I would say 'very amusing'. It is not that I found it amusing, but that it was the best answer.

When Dez entered my life, I am unsure of what changed me. Never in my entire existence and training, have I ever disobeyed an order. I disobeyed one for her, without any knowledge of her. I still, do not know why I did that. I claim it was because I found no reason for her death, but there have been many others before her who have died for much less than she. Somehow, this strange girl from the secure confines of Vault 101 was able to help me…become something. Become a person, rather than a tool used for killing as I once was.

At the first instance that I realized there was something growing inside of me for Dez, I thought of the brainwashing that took place at my facility. I was tortured in every possible way, mental, physical, emotional. After a long period of time, months or years, I was shown kindness. From then on, my life was worth something. A form of something Dez referred to at Point Lookout. Stockholm Syndrome. Eventually, through many other events and whatnot, the people were able to convert and mold me into what I once was. Dez, showing kindness and compassion for my life in her own way, I felt was acting as they were. It took time for me to realize that she was simply harboring her own, natural feelings for me. It took longer, for me to act like I knew what emotions and normalcy was. I still, to this day, do not know the correct way to act in certain situations.

Scanning the lobby, fear grows within my chest. I fear that I have missed Dez. That she has left without a solid goodbye. My heart pounds at the thought of this, as I continue on scanning. It is a few minutes, before I see the entrance to the tower open, allowing light to flood in on the ruined marble flooring. The sun brightens the dimness of the lobby, and I see Dez. She stands with her back to me, staring out at the sun. She dawns Merc Adventurer armor, and stands with her hands on her hips. Her orange and red hair, hangs loosely around her shoulders, gently swaying in the wind. I must act quickly, before I miss my chance.

"Are you leaving?"

I ask as I approach her. She turns to me. She herself has not seen me since we returned. We have not spoken.

"Yeah…yeah I'm going to GNR."

Her voice is nervous, as I stand in front of her. If not for me, she would be dead.

"Dez, I would like to come with you."

Her nerves vanish as she smiles at me, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. I want to embrace her, and turn my back on this life I lead at the tower, but I cannot. I hold myself back.

"No, Charon. You have to stay."

Reaching into my pocket, I retrieve my dog-tags. I am hoping, that giving these back to her will cause her to return once more.

"I want you to have these. I would like them back one day, so I expect you to return."

Pressing them into her hands, I close mine around hers. She looks down, then back up at me. Scars line her face, her neck, her forearms. The three diagonal scars she received at Point Lookout are faded, not matching her sun-tanned skin.

"I'll come back, Charon."

"I wish to come with you."

"I have to go now, Charon. You stay. No following. That, is an order."

I wish to hold her high. I wish to take her from this place, and find the place that I see within my dreams. But I know it is not possible. I know no such place exists, and I know that Dez will not do this with me. I can only hope she returns to me. Only hope, that when she does I will have the ability and courage to turn my back on my own moral system, and leave with her. It is what I wish to do. What I want to do. I have never loved or cared for another human being in my entire life, as I do her. I care about her most, in this world.


	38. Soldier

(?)

"We need to obtain the girl."

"The girl is protected by him. Obtaining her could prove quite difficult."

"Perhaps. Or perhaps not. Her return to the Capital Wasteland could sabotage all we've worked for."

"But sir, she's just a girl."

"Not just any girl, Lieutenant. She is different from anything else we've encountered."

"What would capturing her prove though, sir?"

"Nothing. She would simply be out of our way, out of our hair. We cannot risk her finding out our plans. With her past, it seems her lack of control and discipline has been the key in disbanding all of our objectives."

"How can one lone girl disband plans of an entire trained military?"

"I do not know, Lieutenant. She is different from the other people of this land. She seems to have no regard for herself, risking her own life countless times for causes she has seemingly no belief in."

"But why? Why would someone to that?"

"It is not 'why' we must be concerned with. It is 'how'."

"How, sir?"

"Her methods can't be predicted. She seems to have no plan, just simply infiltrate. Her past actions have proved to us that this is quite dangerous. Any other person in the Capital Wasteland wouldn't dare do the things she has done and accomplished. This, makes her a _very_ dangerous threat to our operations."

"I can see why, sir, but how do we know she even knows about our plans? She could have no idea and simply leave again, and allow us to continue."

"She's not stupid, soldier. She will figure it out in due time, and when that time comes, I fear she will take action. We must find her, before any of this occurs."

"But _he_ protects her. Sir, have you forgotten where _he_ comes from?"

"No, soldier, I have not. I had hoped that the two-hundred years since the Great War wiped out all people and projects from Splinter Group Six, but it seems luck was not on my side."

"I thought you said they were a faction, not a splinter group?"

"No, Lieutenant. At first they were a faction of the facility. Their methods proved too harsh to allow on American children and men, and the Pentagon reached to shut it down. Many superiors involved in the group saw otherwise. Receiving private funding, they broke from the Pentagon and created what we came to know as Splinter Group Six."

"Why six, sir?"

"Because of the six highly trained men and women training the youth they had captured. The man that follows the girl is dangerous, more dangerous than I believe he knows. We must separate them at all costs."

"He no longer follows the girl, sir. I've heard word she travels alone now."

"For how long?"

"She is alone."

"Your ignorance proves your inexperience, soldier. She is alone now, but in time he will return to her side. Bound to her, by the deep embedding of his contract. I see no way he will _not_ return to her side."

"There were rumors that they were romantic."

"Impossible. His training completely wiped him of any normal human functions. A tool, used for following and killing."

"Sir, not to disagree, but sources say that he is no longer bound by contract to her. He follows her, because he _wants_ to. I hear the girl helped him through it. I hear she is the cause for his contract missing."

"If that is true, and I am not saying it is, then we have on our hands a ticking time bomb."

"Sir?"

"Splinter Group Six Mercenaries were trained to functions as machines, not people. If somehow this girl has…caused him to act as a normal human…I fear to see how he will react to her entrapment."

"What if he doesn't find out?"

"Impossible once more. A Splinter Group Six merc does _not_ forget his employer, especially if what you claim of them is true. He will search for her, his training will tell him all he has to look for in order to seek her out."

"Why not capture them both then, sir?"

"Both?"

"If we capture both of them, we can manipulate him into giving up the girl."

"Lieutenant, he has undergone every form of interrogation and torture known to man. He will not give information easily, if at all."

"…Then why not make a _new_ contract?"

"What did you say, soldier?"

"The Splinter Group Six group was trained to obey a contract. Despite the time that has passed, maybe the brainwashing is still in strong hold of him. If we're able to re-create the contract, and present it to him, then maybe he will obey _us_ rather than her, sir."

"I had never thought of that, Lieutenant. Perhaps you are on to something. It is a shot in the dark with a wet match, but we can try. We'll have to go undercover, neither one can know the other is in danger."

"Sir, if we capture him, are you sure she'll come to us?"

"Positive. And vice-versa, but we need the girl, not him. We could, however, use him to help train our own troops. Without the brainwashing, we could, perhaps, have him show us where his area of expertise lies."

"We'll have to learn his name, and his identification number. All was lost when the Citadel was destroyed."

"Not all, soldier, not all. Do not forget, there are many, many files here on Splinter Group Six that survived the war."

"But what if none are about him?"

"You do not know him, soldier. He was the top in his class, he was perfect in all areas. For there _not_ to be a file on him, would be impossible."

"Perfect, sir?"

"In every task thrown at him. Executed all training and objectives with flying colors. You doubted me, when I said he was dangerous."

"Yes, sir. I did not know that."

"Splinter Group Six wanted to keep him in their facility, as their own protection from unknown enemies. But his abilities and expertise proved him to be too dangerous. They did not trust one another, and did not want his contract falling into the hands of an enemy amongst themselves. They were forced to sell the best mercenary they ever produced."

"And now he aids a small girl from the confines of a vault, around the Capital Wasteland."

"I notice now, you're catching on to how dangerous this is to us."

"Sir, I hadn't realized the abilities he seemed to possess."

"You will, soldier, you will."


	39. Her Story

(Gob)

Dez has been gone for a few weeks now. I'm starting to get a bit worried. Shit, I mean, if she was going to GNR, she would have made it by now. Even though this is a blatantly obvious fact, Charon and I choose not to point it out. I mean, it's better not to. He's been runnin' around here like a chicken with its head cut off. Just doin' shit that don't need to be done, and worryin' about shit he shouldn't be worryin' about. I mean, shit I'm worried about Dez too, but I'm being realistic. Girl probably saw somethin' shiny and got sidetracked. If she can get all the way to New Vegas and back without so much as a goddamned pricked finger, than she can get to GNR and back.

But as optimistic as I'm sounding, I do get a bit upset when I turn on Three Dog and don't hear about her. I mean, shit if she was there, he'd be talking about it. And it ain't like I tune in every other day. Since Dez left, I've been listening to Three Dog every day, all day, tryin' to hear something about her. I'm wanting to hear her story just as much as everyone else is. I mean, shit, we only know what Three Dog says, and what we've heard through the grapevine. Finally hearing it from Dez herself is a pretty big deal. Not many people know that she's going, probably just me and Charon, but once Three Dog starts ranting about her arrival, I'm sure people will tune in.

Charon sits outside with me, now. We're smoking cigarettes, watching Zack run around. There's a small radio on the table between us, with Three Dog hootin' and hollerin' his damned head off. I wanna tell that bastard DJ there ain't no more 'good fight' since the damn Brotherhood left and got disbanded. I mean, shit, what else could we fight? Each other?

"It's been too long."

Charon says. He's been itching to find an excuse to leave here and go follow her. I think I'm the only damned one convincing him to wait and stay.

"She probably got sidetracked. Wait it out."

"Until when? Until Three Dog reports she's dead and gone?"

"No, just wait. She'll get there when she wants to."

"I should have followed her, Gob."

"Yeah but you didn't, so quit bitchin about it and start paying attention to shit that matters."

Charon looks at me, his eyes turning to slits as he takes a long drag of his cigarette.

"Like what?"

Good question. I don't know what really matters to him now. Certainly not Lily and Mackenzie, and certainly not anything here.

"I don't know. But shit you made it through five years of her being gone, what's a few more weeks?"

I tell him, trying to drill it through his goddamned head. Charon sighs at me, shaking his head.

"I just worry she will not return."

"Well you're batshit, Charon. She'll come back. Always does."

"Hm."

Three Dog plays a song. He plays the 'Maybe' song and I hear Charon sigh. Who would have thought this lug would be depressed over a girl? Ask me about that ten years ago and I think I would have laughed in your face. Charon doesn't get depressed over anything, at least back then he didn't. I can't say I can't feel for the guy, because I know how it is to lose someone you care about, but I can say he's being downright stupid about it. I mean, she ain't dead, she's comin' back, and he's here acting like the whole world is about to end. Again, that is. Sighing, I shake my head at him as I glance over at Zack. He's tossin' rocks at the gate, laughing at life's simple pleasures. Well, I never saw rocks as amusement, but shit each to their own.

"It is hard to simply not worry about someone who…"

Charon's voice picks up, then trails off. I glance over at him as I lean back and cross my legs. There's a look in his eye I ain't never seen before. It's the sad kind of whimsical look. He's thinkin' of something damn important.

"Who what?"

I question, ignoring Three Dog ranting about shit we already know about. Shit I'm more interested in what Charon's got to say about Dez. I don't know much about their history, and me wanting to know is out of real curiosity. Not like I'd tell anyone, or have anyone to tell it to.

"Never mind, Gob. It is not something I would expect you to understand."

"Well that's for damn sure. I don't understand you two as is."

"Hm."

"Goddamnit Charon, when she gets back, I expect you to get rid of Lily and Mackenzie."

"_If_ she comes back."

"No, _when_."

Charon shrugs slightly, ashing his cigarette.

"We've been listening to Three Dog for weeks, Gob. If Dez was truly going there, she would have been there by now."

"Not unless she got sidetracked. You of all people should know how that goes."

"I suppose."

Charon shakes his head at me, resting his elbows on the table.

"I'd take her back if she'd have me. I wouldn't question it. Nothing she's done in the past five years matters. I simply wish for her to return to me."

"Somehow, I know if you were ever given that chance again, you'd blow it. I mean, you fuckin' blew it now. Lettin' her go off alone, _again_ and not getting rid of Lily and Mackenzie."

Charon's about to flip shit on me. I can see it in his eyes. He stands up so goddamned fast, his chair goes flying. I'm bracing myself for a well-aimed punch to the face. But then, Three Dog saves my ass. He starts rantin' and ravin', and Charon and I have no choice but to look at the radio.

"…never gonna believe this, kiddies. I'm tellin' you this here is one big shock for Three Dog. Who just walked into GNR? None other than Miss 101 herself. I ain't sure if this is gonna end in bloodshed or not folks, but here she is, sitting right across from me."

Charon blinked slowly at me as I tossed him a satisfied smirk. Shit I told him so.

"Dez…"

He mutters as he grabs his chair and sits back down in it. Neither of us speak, we just listen.

"101, what in _hell_ are you doin' here? We're all simply dying to know."

"I came to tell you, and everyone, the truth."

"The truth? About what, 101? We all know you have some serious explaining to do. And how do I know you're _really_ her?"

"My name is Dezbe. I came from Vault 101. I want to tell my story, now are you gonna let me or am I gonna shoot your fuckin' face off and tell it anyways?"

"Uh, right, well Wastelanders, it seems to be the one and only gal from 101 sitting here. No question about that one."

No, Three Dog, there isn't.

"I want to tell you my story. Give me the microphone."

"Anything you want, so long as you keep your gun holstered."

A pause emits as the radio transmits shuffling. I recognize the familiar movement of Dez's hands toying with the mic. How do I know it's her? Because she's hollerin' in it like she's about to die.

"Calm down 101, it's on!"

"Oh, alright. Where should I start?"

"Well, start at the beginning."

"Right. Okay, uhm, here goes…My name is Dezbe. I was born in the Jefferson Memorial, but when I was a baby my father took me to Vault 101. I'm not sure why, but he did. I grew up there, until I was nineteen. Then, my father left. He left the vault in search of something he had been working on his entire life. Something called Project Purity…"

I listen. I hang on her every word, even when she pauses to remember. Since she got her mind back, her memory isn't that grand, and she shuffles between things. Three Dog asks some questions in the middle, and she answers them quickly before getting back to her story. There's a comedic annoyance to her voice, when she answers her questions.

"…Then the next thing I know, I have some mercenary named Charon in my company."

I glance up at Charon, and I see him light up a cigarette. She's on his tale now, with her. Both of us listen more intently, and shit I don't think there's anything else that matters to him now. I don't even think he blinks. Just stares at the goddamned radio like his goddamned life depends on it. I can see why, though. I mean the damn girl is going through every event that's ever happened between them, and it's been so many years. Reliving it like this must be hard on him. I think he might enjoy it a bit, though, too.

"So…so then I came here, home I mean. I came home. And then I left again, to see you."

Dez takes a long breath of air as she finishes her damn story. I'm floored, flabbergasted. I never in a million years would have thought the two of them had _that_ much going on. Shit. Wow. Dez didn't even leave out the sex. Not even stopping with a 'We had sex', she went on to say how amazing it was, and how amazing she felt. If Lily caught any of this, she'd know that recently they had sex. But I don't figure she did, or else Charon wouldn't still be sitting across from me.

"Wow, 101, I mean Dez. That's…that's a lot of story."

"Now you know the truth, and my time here is almost done."

"Done? What about questions?"

"You asked enough and I hate you. That is my story, the truth. That is what happened. The Brotherhood was bad, the Enclave was worse, and I didn't do a damn thing wrong aside from killing people. So get off my ass about it all."

"Dez, you've got to stay and answer some questions…hey where are you going?"

We can hear Dez moving around. Three Dog hollers at her to stop touching something we can't see, and Charon lets out a small chuckle. I had to, too. Shit, Dez is still Dez, even after all these years.

"Let me play this, I know how."

We hear her say, as someone walks over and grabs the microphone. I presume it's Dez, because I highly doubt Three Dog would be slamming it around like that. Either way, it's amusing.

"Alright girl, you've earned it I guess. Flood the world with a new song."

Three Dog tells her, sounding far away.

"I will. And I know the one person who will know this song."

Her hands play the piano beautifully. I'm floored by her ability, as she strokes the keys, as she sings. I stare up at Charon, and he keeps his mind fixated on the radio. I don't know what to say or do. I simply listen. Listen to the beautiful melody that Dez produces, as her voice emits a sound never heard before. Pure, raw emotion floods through the speakers of our radio, and floods the speakers of more around the Capital Wasteland. She sings of love, of missing love, of a song that's too deep for me to understand. My heart cries inside, for the song she sings. It cries for her, for Charon, and for the times they had no one but each other. I can't describe to you the look on Charon's face, but I can tell you this, it's something deep. Something I ain't never seen on any man before.


	40. This Plague Between Us

(Charon)

She sings. She sings and she plays. I can't move, I don't want to move. She sings it to me, plays it for me. I am certain of this, because it is _our_ song. The one I used to comfort her in the worst times, the one I used to show her light, to keep her sane and safe. I never knew she could sing so beautifully. Never knew that annoying voice of hers, could emit such movement and beauty. In my time, I have never heard this song sung more delicately than as she sings it.

A part of me wants to turn off the radio, not wanting to hear the rest, for fear of losing my mind. I want nothing more than to appear inside GNR and take whatever pain she carries inside that makes her sing this so beautifully. _I used to live alone, before I knew you_. She sings, words before were never so true. _Love is not a victory march, it's a cold, it's a broken hallelujah._ My knuckles grip the arms of my chair so hard, I fear it will cut my hands. _Remember when I moved in you? The holy dark was moving too, and every breath we drew was hallelujah._ I can't help but think of our time spent in that abandoned house. Where for a night, Dez and I had no worries. My mind wanders to nights before, when in the desert we forgot ourselves, and lost our minds to one another. I wish for nothing more, than to spend nights upon nights with her like that again and again.

I want her to continue on, wish for her to keep the song going, but it has to end, and it does. I am brought back to the real world, by Three Dog's unwelcome voice.

"That was _amazing_! Did you hear that Wastelanders? Can we have an encore?"

"…Yeah…yeah I guess."

"What do you call this one?"

"…I guess I can name this…Charon."

"For the ghoul?"

"…Yeah…for him."

Gob glances up at me, and I know what he's expecting, but I do nothing. I do nothing but stare back at the radio, my heart pounding in my chest. Dez begins to play a sad, sultry tune. She does not sing. Simply plays the soft keys on the piano as if the sheet music stands before her. Words are not needed. Light keys are prominent, as deep keys are simply played from time to time. It is even more beautiful than the song she previously played. Yet…yet it slows. It slows to an ending, a sad, beautiful, ending. It slows before it picks up, as if the notes reflect each and every event that has been placed within our lives. Despair, followed by hope. I can tell when she is starting to end, as the keys grow lighter, softer, slower. As the sadness and desire she has placed into the song comes to an end, as we both know, our relationship has come to.

"I have to go now."

I hear her say, and Three Dog protests. But the noise of a slamming door tells me that she is gone, and there is no more need for the radio. I turn it off, not wanting Three Dog to disrupt the emotions that are flooding my mind.

"I never knew the damn kid could play so well."

Gob mutters, but I pay him no mind. I am lost right now. Lost, as to what I am supposed to make of this. Is this Dez's way of saying goodbye? Leaving me with the sadness of her music, leaving me with no argument or protest? I refuse to believe it. Perhaps she has played those melodies in hopes…well I'm not quite sure. Dez has never been an easy creature to figure out. Over the past five years away from her, I have had much time to sit, to think about her. What makes her. I have come to the conclusion that there is no word I know of, that can describe her.

Standing, I shake my head. I do not feel as if I am in the real world. I feel old. I feel my age. I feel as if I did six, seven, eight years ago. I feel as if I am the old Charon. Reasoning for this is unknown. I can't remember my name before my training. I never had a name. I was simply, always, 'Charon'. It depresses me, more than Dez's soft, sad and sultry music. Thoughts warp my mind. I know if she never returns, never comes back, then I have lost once again, and there will never be a second chance.

We have been given many second chances, Dez and I. From Fort Bannister, to the Citadel, to the Purifier and more, we have always been forced apart. But we have always found one another. Either accidental, purposely, or by sheer luck and determination. The same forces tearing us apart, I feel drive us to stay together. I know that, this time, if she does not return, she never will. For five years, in the back of my mind, I knew and believed one day she would come home. She did, too. I do not have that feeling, as I stand here on the grounds of Tenpenny Tower. The small voice in the back of my mind does not reassure me that all will be well, and that soon she will be with me once more. I do not know what to make of this, but it angers me. It angers me, in ways I haven't felt, in over two-hundred years.

Clasping my hands into fists, I look at Gob who still sits at the small patio pre-war table. He glances past me at Zack, who is running and laughing. Gob's eyes meet mine, and we share a nod as I begin to take my leave. I must speak with Lily. Chances are she has heard the broadcast, heard Dez's story, and has many questions. I find my feet are heavy, like lead, as I walk through the old doors, and into the old lobby. Ghouls who listen regularly to Three Dog point, and whisper, as if I am a tale of gossip. I suspect now, I am. Pushing the button on the elevator, I nervously wait in anticipation for what may be awaiting me.

"Charon?"

I hear my name, and I turn. Bessie Lynn stands. I admire her. I admire her for standing by Roy for all this time, for putting up with all of his actions and endeavors. Although holding good intentions, Roy is a bastard. He is lucky, to have a woman like Bessie Lynn.

"Yes?"

I reply, half-hearted, not wanting to speak with people.

"I heard Dez on the radio. I never knew…the two of you…went through so much."

"Yes, we have."

"She loves you, Charon."

"I know."

"So why are you still here?"

I look away from her, ashamed. Now, the residents know. They will look at me now, with disgust, for allowing Lily to intervene with something so important and rare as Dez.

"I do not know."

The doors open, and I hesitate. I could leave now, perhaps catch up to Dez in the Wastes. But I do not know where she is heading. I do not know where she may be wandering, and by the time I get to GNR she will be far gone, her trail, cold. Against my wants, I step on to the elevator, and take a last glance at Bessie Lynn before the doors close. I have disappointed her. I do not like this feeling.

Slowly, I open the door to my apartment. Poking my head through, I see Lily sitting on the bed, Mackenzie sleeping soundly behind her. Lily stares at the radio, a blank expression on her face. She heard the broadcast, and a part of me is glad. I do not know why, but I am. Stepping inside, I close the door behind me. Lily's eyes trail upwards, resting on me. She does not move.

"…She told Three Dog everything."

Lily says, and I sigh.

"Yes, I know."

"Things…things you never even mentioned to me."

I spoke highly of Dez to Lily, but I never hinted at our troubles, adventures, moments. Dez took no mercy, in telling every small explicit detail. Especially about our innermost private times. She told the world how it felt when we slept together in the abandoned house. She told the entire Capital Wasteland, how it felt to be against my body in the dark of night, knowing that we could be ambushed, but feeling so secure.

"I know."

I do not know what I am supposed to say to her.

"Charon…how could you keep this from me?"

"Keep what?"

"_This_. This whole history and past. You…you never told me anything."

"I didn't feel it was your place to know."

"But I want to know everything about you."

No. No. I feel my body stiffen, my back straightening. Lily has never inquired about me, my past, or Dez. What I have told her simply happened. Pillow talk, some would call it. I was careful, to never give away too much.

"You never showed interest before."

"Charon…she basically went and put your life out to the world, and you wouldn't even _tell_ me."

"What Dez does with her side of things is her choice."

"So are you saying her story is false? That it didn't really happen like that?"

I hesitate. I look around the apartment, the place that Lily now knows I received while with Dez.

"What Dez said, was an entirely accurate description of our time spent together."

"So this…this place…was all because of her? This tower? You did it all for her?"

"…Yes. Most of what I have done while in her company, was for her."

Lily shakes her head. She does not shed a tear.

"She claimed you hated her. She said you would fight and argue all the time."

"In the beginning, yes. But I have always cared for her, even before my contract was released."

"I never even knew you were a contract killer. Where is it?"

"Destroyed. I am no longer bound to it."

A silence befalls us. Lily looks up at me, searching for answers in my eyes. Her search is fruitless. I have no answers to offer, no words to speak of. She knows the truth now, and it is up to her what to do with it.

"So what happens now? She comes back and you take off with her? You take off and forget the five years we've spent together for a girl you spent only two with?"

"I have been with you three and a half years, and was with Dez for one and a half. More has happened with Dez and I in a month, than has ever happened with you in years."

"So that's it then?"

"No, I do not know."

"Is she coming back?"

"I do not know that, either."

Lily shakes her head at me, running her fingers through her long hair.

"Even after hearing her story, I still don't know what you see in her. Her body is sliced like a Thanksgiving turkey. Her morals are questionable, her lifestyle is…is wrong, and she abandons you every chance she gets. Are you only tied to her because of this history?"

"Dez survives. Her scars speak louder than she can even comprehend, and her actions have always had a reason and repercussion. I…care for her…because she was the first to care for me."

"That's not a good reason to care for someone, Charon."

"It is good enough for me."

"Even after her being gone for so long?"

"Yes, especially."

"Why?"

Blinking, I look around the room once more. I feel I should not have to justify myself to her, but I must.

"I have killed many men. Many women, many children. I have the blood of hundreds on my hands, more than you will even care to know, more than I care to tell of. Dez knows all about me, my past. Her ability to look past this, to see me as an equal, is enticing. I was not invited into her life, she took me grudgingly. But as she has already said, she learned to depend on me, and I her. The night she spoke of, in Megaton after her father passed, I learned what it meant, to mean something to someone. I have never felt that way before. That night…I learned what it meant, to be important, to be something to someone. I cannot leave her now. She still needs me, and I will be there upon her call."

"…Why?"

"Because, Lily…I care for her."

"More than you rightfully should."

Her voice is angry, which is understandable. I do not know what to say, so I remain quiet. A light breeze blows through the open door of the balcony, and I decide to walk out. I walk past Lily, knowing she wants my comfort and reassurance, knowing that I will not offer it. Instead, I continue outside, and pull my cigarettes from my pocket. I light one, as I overlook the barren Wastes. I hope to see Dez somewhere on the horizon, but I know it's not possible. I know, I am fooling myself.

"If she comes back, you're leaving, aren't you?"

Lily says, as she stands behind me. I do not turn to face her, perhaps out of shame, perhaps because I do not feel she deserves it. Her selfishness to continue to question why I care so much for Dez, even after hearing her story, angers me.

"Perhaps. It was Dez's idea for me to stay this time."

"…But you will go, huh?"

"It is possible. Yes."

"And do what? Kill more? Destroy more lives? What _more_ could you possibly do with her that you haven't already done?"

I do not know, but I know where I wish to be.

"Spend the rest of my days making up whatever mistakes and pain I have done to her."

"You don't…you didn't even apologize for cheating on me."

"It would be an empty apology."

Our time spent at Point Lookout only enforced in me what I already knew. That I love Dez, and that no matter how much time apart we spend, I will always love her.

"I can't believe you."

Lily storms away, slamming the balcony door behind her. She knows now, and it is all I can do. I can't force her to leave, I can't rid myself of her and wait for Dez. I must let things unfold as they are, and continue on doing the best I can with what I have, until she returns. God, I hope she returns.


	41. Unknown

(?)

"This changes everything."

"Sir?"

"I can't believe she did that…"

"…Sir?"

"What?"

"What's wrong, sir?"

"Are you stupid, soldier? Did you not hear the broadcast?"

"I did, sir, but what does this mean?"

"It means our plans just got significantly more dangerous."

"How?"

"Getting the girl now, knowing how committed he is, is proving to be quite difficult. He may not obey the contract."

"Sharpshooters will be positioned nearby."

"It doesn't matter! He's nothing but a killing machine! He's stubborn. When you're stubborn, you _don't_ die."

"Sir, perhaps we could play on this information?"

"…Go on."

"From the broadcast, it seems the girl was dependant on him. Perhaps if we can isolate the girl, and notify her that he is in trouble, she will _willingly_ come to our aid. From then, we can also have the girl send some sort of distress signal to him, causing him to come to us. As long as we keep them separate, we can play on what we know to get them to cooperate."

"…You may be on to something there, Lieutenant. But there's fault. What if one or both does not believe us?"

"As long as we can get the girl to, what's it matter?"

"It matters, soldier. If we have her, and he finds out, he will come. Although we are well-equipped, we are still no match for him."

"He is one man."

"One man, who is trained in ways that even we can't comprehend. I'm sure his training has taught him what to do under interrogation, under times of dire stress. He will not let up easily."

"But he was not trained on how to deal with emotions. He will falter, if he believes the girl to be in danger."

"How are you so sure, soldier?"

"Because from what I've heard on the broadcast, he has done it before. Fort Bannister? The Citadel? Project Purity? Once he believes her to be in trouble or dead, he will leave, or even cause her harm himself."

"He was under contract during Fort Bannister, soldier you forget that."

"We can place him under contract once more."

"We're not sure if that will work yet."

"If we have the girl, sir, we have him."

"…As right as you are, I am still concerned with this plan. Do we know the location of the girl at this moment?"

"Sources tell me she is travelling South."  
"Do we know where?"

"No, just South. Probably returning to him."

"Then we must act quickly."

"Yes, sir."


	42. It Was You

Before I reach the part of the Capital Wasteland that separates the city from the desert, I decide to take a turn. There's a place on my map that I don't really ever remember going to. One more location on my Pip-Boy won't hurt, and I figure Charon won't miss me more than he already has. I would have been able to get to GNR sooner, but a few Super Mutants and enticing Raiders got the best of me. Not that I was injured or anything, but just out of sport. Wanted to see if I still had it. See if even after my escapade with Jack, I still had the balls to pull the trigger if needed, still had some fight in me. I do. It feels great to be back.

Of course, I've been worried about Charon. My time away and with no form of contact available, I'm hoping he knows I'm okay. Saw a trader caravan a few miles back, said they were heading South and at first I was, too. After we did some trades and I got my gun repaired after a Super Mutant stepped on it, I gave him a note. Nothing big or important, but I hope he gets it to Charon. The handful of caps I handed over for playing my postal pony should cover it. Just a note, saying I was alive, well, and I'd be back relatively soon.

Mostly, it says to stay put. Last thing I need is to get back to the tower and find him missing. Gone on some wild adventure to rescue the damsel in distress. I may be a damsel, but this time, I'm not in distress. I guess I just want to prove to him, and myself, that I can still survive on my own. To me, it's proven. I made it from Tenpenny Tower, to GNR with very little troubles. The whole radiation thing I have helps, too. I didn't bring any stimpacks, and when I got injured, I was lucky to find a small irradiated area. Pure water filing into the world makes it hard to find radiation now, but it's still there.

I miss him, though, Charon. It's what keeps me going on long, cold nights. Knowing he's safe, and waiting. Knowing that when I get back, I won't take 'no' for an answer, even if I'm the one saying it. I gave him up five years ago, and I gave him up to leave for GNR. I won't make that same mistake again. There's a long life ahead of me, and I want to share it all, with him. Telling the world my story…it helped me realize that. Helped me see how much he has helped me, how much I've taken for granted, how if it wasn't for him this whole time, I'd be dead. I owe him more than I can ever offer. Shit, I can still try though.

Hopping down from the pile of rubble I climbed over, I feel proud. It's been five long years, since I've done that, and I feel nineteen all over again. I want to throw my hands up and create cheering noises like I once did, but I don't. Instead, I smirk, and shake my head at myself. Changed, matured, different, I am still Dezbe. I am still that stupid girl from Vault 101 who doesn't know her ass from her elbow in some instances. I may have a better grip on reality now, but it doesn't matter. Sometimes, I like to pretend I'm still that girl. That girl, who was so lost and confused out here. That girl, who couldn't shoot a pistol to save her life, running from something no one in the world could see. Sometimes…I still wish I was that girl, fighting for warmth on cold nights, by curling beside Charon.

Keeping a steady pace, I brush some stray hair from my face as I walk. A warm breeze keeps me on my toes, as I scan the decrepit desert in front of me. Broken highways, rocks, cliffs, dead trees, and soil not worth growing in surrounds the area under a bright sun, and a cloud of dust. Home. New Vegas…looks like it never went through a war. Looks lively, somewhat maintained. It's not me. I belong here. In the Capital Wasteland. I don't know exactly why I'm taking this out-of-the-way trip, but I feel I want to. I feel…well, intrigued. I'm fascinated by the fact that even now, there's still more of the Capital Wasteland I haven't seen. Point Lookout I just went to, and then there's whatever lies beyond The Pitt. You know, maybe when I get back to Tenpenny Tower, I'll take Charon there. I'll take him there, to revisit the hell I saved. After five years, that baby I 'rescued' is Zack's age. If all is well over there, maybe Gob will want to come. Maybe the four of us can make a home there.

I'd like that. A home, with Gob, Charon and Zack. It'll be the family that I never had. That was robbed and taken from me. I don't want Zack growing up without a female figure. I mean, I grew up without one, and aside from a few merciless killings here and there and some questionable actions over in New Vegas, I came out alright. But…I don't want that for Zack. You do need to learn how to survive out here, but in due time. He should learn from me, from Charon. Not from Gob, who I'm sure still to this day can't shoot a weapon to save his life. Zack…seems to give hope to me.

I'm not sure why. Maybe because we both exist with the same mutated gene that makes us human, but immune to radiation. There's a downside to that, though. Gob and Charon will outlive us. After my time, and Zack's is done, they'll go on living. It makes me sad inside. Sad, that I won't be able to share all there is to share in this world with Charon. I know, for a fact, when I return to the tower, Charon will come with me. He'll travel with me to the ends of the world, and back again. I smile at this. I smile not because I'll have adventures again, but because he'll be there.

In New Vegas, I wasn't myself. Sure life was pretty much one big party all the time. Gambling, drinking, sex…you name it, it happened. But it wasn't me. It wasn't whole. I always felt a big part of me was missing, and although I never wanted to admit it, I knew what it was. It was Charon. It was him. It always has been him. These past few months back home, has proved everything to me. That no matter how far apart we are, no matter what happens, we'll find one another. I think it's fate, destiny, that keeps us together. Never, have I believed in that shit. Until now. Until I met him. He's my bodyguard. My boyfriend. My one and only out here. I smile, when I think of him. I smile, when I close my eyes and imagine his body appearing over the horizon, walking towards me. His stance, defiant against the dust-coated sun, his shotgun clasped tightly in his hands. I smile, knowing he's walking towards me, knowing, he'll always be with me.


	43. Contemplation

(Charon)

It's been a few days since Dez's broadcast. Lily and I haven't spoken, let alone looked at one another. It does not bother me. I can't care, I do not care. Rather, I spend my time with Gob, although his presence is growing greatly annoying. He prods and pries me with useless questions, expecting some form of answers I cannot provide him. Or instead, do not wish to give him. He asks me of Dez, if I have heard word from her. Gob tries to take my mind off of the obvious. His attempts to distract me do nothing but annoy me. In a way, perhaps they work. The annoyance his actions cause does, in fact, get my mind off of Dez. But she is still all I need, dream, and want.

Each night I wake in a cold sweat. I awake on the cot Gob has provided for me until further notice, and I must allow my eyes to adjust, reminding me I am still within the tower. My dreams are the same. I am always in a field of green, flowing, luscious grass. It is late spring, early summer. I stand before Dez, as she holds my hands, human hands, in hers. I can feel her thumbs stroking the back of my hands lovingly. Sometimes, I kiss her. Other times, I allow her to stand in silence. There are moments when she looks up at me, and I want nothing more than to run my fingers through her long, flowing, fire-colored hair. Freckles line her face, her cheeks and nose, and I am always shocked by their appearance. I have never noticed them before, never saw them upon her face. Perhaps it is because I have never looked.

"Charon…"

She whispers to me, always. Her full, pouty lips mouthing my name. If I am lucky, I will feel her hand brushing against my smooth-shaven cheek. Her fingers are soft, and I close my eyes to her touch. Other times, she looks up at me, a sad, wanton look on her face.

"Yes?"

I replay always, all the time, loyally and consistent.

"You'll save me, won't you?"

"I will."

"You'll keep me safe?"

At this moment, she presses her body into mine. I wrap my arms around her, assuring her she is safest when she is pressed against me.

"I always have."

"You'll never leave me?"

"No, no I won't."

Each dream, I give the same answers, over and over. But she does not believe me. She always looks up at me, fresh tears in her eyes, pouting. I plead with her to convince her, but it does nothing. My words, mean nothing to her, as the warmth of the sun, and the fields of grass fade away. She is always the last thing to vanish, to dissipate. Even when I open my eyes, I can still see her standing before me, the white dress with flowers hugging every curve of her body. I can see her, staring at me, with tears flowing down her eyes.

I wake tonight, as I have done every night when Dez is not present beside me. My black shirt is sticking to my body, and in a panic, I take it off. I also kick the thin blanket I have to the floor, and reach down for the bottle of irradiated water I now keep beside my bed. My mouth is always dry when I wake, it is an annoyance.

"Why the fuck you wakin' up?"

I nearly leap out of the cot at Gob's voice. He slurs his words, obviously tired and half-asleep. He has never woken before when I have. I have not told him of my dreams.

"Bad dream."

I mutter, trying to stay quiet as to not wake Zack.

"Dreams, huh? Didn't know you could have those."

"Hm."

I say, rubbing my eyes. It has become a habit to smoke a cigarette after I wake, before I allow myself to fall asleep once more. I find if I do this, I do not have the dream again. It helps me sleep easier, calming my nerves, chasing away the image of Dez.

"What was it about? Keep wakin' up all the damn time every fuckin' night, gotta be about something."

Gob surprises me. I had not known he was aware that I have been waking every night at nearly the same time. Exhaling smoke from my cigarette, I shake my head at him. I am not one for human comfort or confidence. I do not seek help from others, do not look to them for advice. Simply, I survive. Lately, I deal with my own emotions as they come. Although confusing and irritating, I am learning, slowly, how to interact and be normal. Outwardly, I seem as if I understand it all. I do not. I simply act, as I see fit. Just as I always have. I have not yet figured out, this complex system of emotions, that everyone else seems to.

"Dez."

I reply, one-word, unsure of how to properly explain this to him.

"Dez? Shit, shouldn't it be good then?"

"No. It is always the same. Dez and I are somewhere unknown, but beautiful. We are human, both of us. Each dream, she looks beautiful, there is no dirt, dust, grime, anything covering her. We are dressed in a pre-war fashion. Each time, she asks me to stay, protect her. I promise her I will, but she does not, never, believes me. It ends, and I wake."

We are silent, with the only light being the flame of my cigarette. I do not know what to say, or if I am supposed to say anything for that matter.

"Wow. Maybe your fuckin' head is tryna tell you something."

Gob says, as if he knows all. Perhaps on this, he does know something I do not.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, maybe you feel guilty. Maybe letting her run off on her own and shit bothers you, and you won't admit it."

"I have admitted that it bothers me."

"Then don't let her run off again. Stand up to her and gain your place back at her side."

"Perhaps."

"I mean, stayin' here with Lily after what Dez said on Three Dog's station isn't exactly loyal."

"What do you mean?"

"Your loyalties are supposed to lie with Dez. Been that way since you two fucks met. Ain't gonna be seen any other way, and you're a dumbshit who keeps letting Lily fuck it all up. I bet Dez is going to keep takin' off till you go and stand up and get rid of the tramp."

"Hm."

Gob makes sense, in his own way. It frightens me, that I can now understand his logic. I have been spending far too much time with him. However, he does have a point. I had promised to wait for Dez when she departed from Underworld for journeys unknown. Since her return, she has done nothing but willingly left my side. Years ago, in the blackness of night in Megaton, as I held her crying body against my own, I promised her I would not leave her side. I have not, but I have allowed her to leave mine. If she is still a fraction of the girl I remember her to be, then Gob is right. By not standing up and returning to her side, I am leaving her. I have a lot of thinking ahead of me.


	44. The Mistakes I've Made

"So what?"

Lily asks me, as we stand in our apartment. We are discussing what to do, what plan of action to take. I have come to finally ask her to leave.

"You cannot stay here any longer, Lily."

I utter the words, and I feel as if a weight has been lifted off of me. I do care for Lily, I will not deny that, but I care for Dez more.

"You're kidding me, right? This is about that girl, Dez, isn't it?"

"Yes."

"How _dare_ you! I forgave you for you infidelities, I forgave you for chasing after her _twice_ and _this_ is how you repay me?"

"I never once asked for your permission or forgiveness, Lily. I have never asked you for anything. Now, I am asking you to leave."

"And where will I go? I can't survive out there!"

I sigh, lighting a cigarette. Lily stares at me, angry, but I do not care. All I can do at this point is accept my impulsive actions and see where on Earth they take me.

"Megaton, Lily. It is not far. You will be able to reach it just fine."

"And what do I do once I get there?"

"Find a home. Make a life. Settle down. But you cannot stay here."

She throws her hands up at me in disbelief. This day was coming, it was inevitable. All that it needed was time. Time to arrive, to evolve, things to push and force it to happen. Lily must learn to survive on her own accord. It was a mistake for me to take her in, in the first place. But…even now, as I watch her angrily gather her things, with Mackenzie drearily watching, I know why I did.

It was a year after Dez's departure, and six months after the fall of Underworld. We tried all we could to save it, our home, the only safe-haven for ghouls. There was too much for us to do, and too little a population after Gunny and Sara infiltrated it. Our only other option, was to leave, and never look back. It was I who led them, the remaining Underworld residents, to Tenpenny Tower. With Gob beside me, holding Zack protectively in his arms, I led the well-armed, small pack of ghouls through the city. Perhaps, thinking back, we were _too_ armed. With no natural enemy and with the Brotherhood of Steel disbanded, there was not much for us to fear. But most of these people had not stepped outside of Underworld in nearly two-hundred years. They had a right to be scared.

When all was said and done, and I had helped everyone get situated into rooms with Roy's help, I needed something to do. I cannot sit idly by as time ticks away slowly. When you live a seemingly endless life, you feel you must always be busy, or else you begin to realize how long you've been around. I figured I could freelance. Get my bones moving, keep my mind off of Dez, and help rid the world of one more piece of shit. It worked, for a while.

By that time, I was already feeling the effects of Dez's absence. I began to have trouble sleeping, reaching for her beside me when she was not there. There were moments when the desert would take its toll on me, and I would see a figure walking along the horizon. Each time, I knew it wasn't her, but I wanted it to be. She was all I could think about, and it interfered with my jobs. I slipped up, made foolish and unforgivable mistakes. When I found Lily and Mackenzie, I knew I had to do something. I had hoped, by allowing her into my life, that she would possibly fill what Dez has left. For a time, a short time, it worked. Then, I began to simply dislike it. Staying with her only for moral reasoning, and hoping that my good deed would somehow make a difference in the world. I see now, how foolish I was.

At least, there is time for me to fix the mistakes I have made. Many people have to reap what they sew. My longevity provides me with means and ways to fix mistakes made in the past. Dez, however, does not have the same life-span as I do. Eventually, her time will come. Before that happens I must take it upon myself to fix all there is I can fix. For now, I can start with welcoming her home to an empty apartment. One where only she and I will live. From there, she can tell me of things, things I know she still hides, and I will accept her tales and listen and comfort. Five years is a long time. She told Three Dog her story, her side, but I know her. I know Dezbe. I know, she isn't telling me the full story.


	45. I Always Knew

I have a dog. I have a stupid, mangy, drool-faced, smelly, furry dog. No, I'm not shitting you. He follows me now, after I shot a few Raiders for messing with him. I mean, I didn't _mean_ to make the dog follow me, he just sort of _did_. It was an accident. I went to check out what I found to be the Scrapyard, and there were some Raiders messin' with the poor creature. So I helped him. Then, he followed me for a bit. But, I guess it's not all bad. I named him and now I love him.

"Dogmeat."

I say, muttering to myself. Dogmeat knows his name, smart dog, and looks up at me. Alright, alright. Having him follow me isn't bad at all. Actually, I kind of like the company. When I talk aloud to myself now, I don't feel as crazy. Plus, he's pretty swift at alerting me when danger is around. I don't normally check my compass every few seconds for red ticks, anyways.

"We're going home, Dogmeat."

He looks up at me, panting. Not much of a talker.

"Ghouls."

I say, and he growls, shaking his head. Sometimes, I really think this dog can understand me.

"No, Dogmeat, these ghouls are nice."

He whimpers, and I pat his head, smiling a bit. I'm not sure how Charon, or anyone else in the tower will like having a dog around. But shit, they put up with Lily, and that's worse if you ask me.

"Want to hear some Three Dog?"

I'm still not fond of that stupid DJ, but it's been a while. I should be hitting Tenpenny Tower in a day, and I think some noise will do me some good. With Dogmeat around now, I don't really have to worry about enemies sneaking up on me. He kind of takes care of that for me.

"…Anyways kiddies, I've been doin' some thinkin' since that lass Dez left my studio. Hearin' her story and all the fights for the good fight she did, I'm gonna lay my chips on the table and say this: You get 'em, 101! Three Dog is gonna support you from now on! Even more, I'm gonna give you my consent on your ghoul-love you got goin' on there. Now we _all_ know Miss 101 doesn't need anyone's permission to do anything, but shit people. We ain't ghoul bigots out here, and love is love. Spread the word, Wastelanders. 101, this song is for you. Good luck, wherever you are."

I have to stifle a chuckle as Three Dog starts on a love song. It's about moving mountains, and taking a bit on the impossible. I'll admit, the support is nice, and the song is nice, but I still don't like him. The music blares out of my Pip-Boy, filling my head with…well, images of Charon. I can't wait to get back to him. I can't wait to see his face, and run into his arms. I don't care who says what anymore. I just want to see him, kiss him, and never let him go again, really.

After all, I promised I'd come back. Sure it took a bit, but I did. Just like the first time, I told him I'd come back, and I did. I always make sure to keep hold on my promises, you know, just in case. Looking down at Dogmeat right quick, I notice something odd about him. His fur is sticking up, and he's shaking his head and snarling. Stopping, I bend down to pat his head.

"Hey boy? You alright?"

He starts to bark at something in the distance. It's dusk right now, and I can't see very well or far. Just to be safe, I take my Kneecapper off of my waist and cock it for good measure. Standing up, I stand close to Dogmeat. If he starts to attack something, then I'll shoot at it. So far, he's never been wrong in knowing the difference between a good person and a bad. I figure now isn't the time to start judging.

"What is it, Dogmeat?"

I ask, cautious as we slowly creep forward. Turning off my Pip-Boy radio, I listen closely. The wind hits against dead trees and bounces off of rocks. I can see a faint light coming towards me. I know I'm not dead, or anything like that, but the light is still eerie.

"Dezbe?"

That voice. That voice sounds…sounds so _familiar_. Stopping, I put my hand down in front of Dogmeat. I know that voice, but from where? Where have I heard it from?

"Dezbe, is that you ahead?"

A man. Yes, the voice is a man's. It sounds, _he_ sounds…different, professional…clouded. Like, he has his hand over his mouth. Against my better judgment, I close my eyes to try and concentrate. Since the whole bullet to the brain thing, some of my memories are foggy. Some of my associations with things are foggy. Like with this voice. I know I've heard it, but putting it to a face, or even a situation, is hard.

"I'll ask once more before I shoot!"

The voice says, and I snap my eyes open. Of course! I remember now!"

"Rococo! It's me! It's Dez!"

He comes in my view. His Outcast armor looks the same, and a wide smile spreads across my face. It's nice to see someone familiar, someone friendly. Charon never really told me why we had to leave the Outcast Outpost so quickly back then, but I never really asked. My memory wasn't in working order just yet, and I didn't want to make it worse by asking more inane questions. I simply followed Charon back then, eager to get home, eager to be with him. But now, as I'm smiling like a stupid idiot, I'm pretty happy to see someone from my past who doesn't want to kill me.

"It's been a long time, Dez."  
Rococo comes up to me, shaking my hand. I kind of want to hug the bastard. I mean, I never had any beefs with the Outcasts. They helped me and Charon out in a big way. Sometimes, I wonder if it was them who helped me give me my memory back. Sure it's foggy, and the time spent at Fort Independence is kind of screwy and messed in my head, but I remember it. At least, I remember who was kind to me, anyways.

"It has been. How've you been holding up?"

"Decent. I'm glad I ran into you."

I cock an eyebrow as I holster my weapon. Dogmeat grows, backing away from Rococo.

"Dogmeat, hush! Sorry, new pet, he's kind of on the stupid side. Anyways, why you happy to run into me?"

Folding my arms in front of my chest, I anticipate Rococo's answer. I mean, we never really did get to say goodbye, and I've always had a feeling he had the hots for me.

"Just, happy to see you're alive and well. It's been a while since we've had a run-in with you. Where you been hiding?"

"You don't listen to Three Dog much, do you?"

"No ma'am. Too busy keeping the Wasteland as safe as I can."

I nod my head and pull out a pack of cigarettes. Lighting one, I offer the pack to Rococo. He shakes his head, pointing to his helmet. Right. Forgot.

"Ah, well, I just got back from New Vegas."

"New Vegas? As in, New Vegas, New California Republic?"

"Yup. That's the place."

Rococo slaps his knee in humor. As much as I like seeing an old friend, I do want to get going. I mean, Lily obviously isn't making Charon happy, and I tend to try and make up for that.

"Wow, why'd you come back here then?"

"Home is home, Roc. I missed it. Not to cut this meeting short, but I'm actually trying to get back to someone right now."

"Real quick, though, where's that ghoul fellow you hung around with?"

"Charon? He's home. I'm on my way to see him now."

"Ah, so you still travel with him?"

"For the most part, yeah."

"I see. Alright, I'll let you get back to your travels. I should probably get back to my duties. Gotta keep those Raiders away."

"Maybe I'll stop by the fort again, for old time's sake."

"I'd like that."

We say goodbye and part ways. Dogmeat still growls as Rococo disappears from us. I pay it no mind. He didn't attack him, so I figure the mutt is just nervous around new people. Seeing Rococo was nice. It reminded me of a different time. A time when well, I'm not sure. Never thought I'd look back on my past, and call those memories the 'good old days'. Now, though, it seems they are.

As tired as I am, I know the more I walk, the faster I'll get to the tower. You know, I never told anyone this, but…when I was little, I'd have stupid daydreams. My father he'd, he'd give me books about these people. They were elegant. I can't remember what they were, but I remember the books were very, very old, and the Overseer would have flipped shit over them. Anyways, these books were filled with adventure, and at the end, the girls, those elegant, beautiful girls, would get the man of their dreams. I used to dream of being those girls. Of being that beautiful, and that elegant. Princesses, that's what they were. I'm not sure exactly _what_ a princess is, but I wanted to be one. At the end of those stories, their…man I suppose, would come and sweep them away, and they'd live happily ever after.

I used to think life on the outside was like that. That it was filled with adventure, filled with those kinds of stories and people. When I did get out of the vault, it wasn't anything like I thought. Like I had hoped. I had wanted it to be…like those stupid stories. Wanted some elegant man to come and take me away on…what did they call them? Horses? Some pre-war, four-legged animal that can carry people. I knew, though, none of it was real when I stepped out of the vault that day. I wanted that charming man, and those beautiful castles. I never got that, though. Instead, I got something I think is a bit better.

Charon would fight those giant lizards for me. He has before. We don't call them what the stories did. We call them Deathclaws. Sure, he's no charming, and he's not nearly as elegant or beautiful as the men in the stories but…he's better than them. He's strong, and he protects me. Keeps me safe, out of harms way, and tries to think of me first. In all the stories, the men never knew they stumbled upon the girls. Charon and I happened that way. We were an accident.

I'm sure he never expected me, some dumb kid from a vault, to hold and have his contract. I'm sure he never thought that any of this would happen. That one day he'd be free, and I'd be free, too. I never thought it would. Never thought I'd meet that special someone out here. That person made for me, just for me. Charon was the most unlikeliest of people for me, too. But I remember it. I remember it nearly as clear as crystal.

When I was traveling to New Vegas is when my memory really started returning. In bigger bits, in bigger pieces. The one memory I was able to really remember, to really see in order, to really feel, was one of him. Well, not really _of_ him. It was when I first realized I loved him. His acts of indeliberate kindness. I remembered it, and I stopped in the middle of the barren desert, and cried. It fit so perfectly, in my mind. I remembered how he had saved my life, that first night we were together, and I wondered, as I was hanging by his hand, what in the world made him do that. I wondered why, and how, and I tried to analyze every bit of him. Not knowing him made me want to know more, and my prying led to his annoyance, and his annoyance grew to caring. The time when he pulled me into his arms at Jury Street…I'll never forget that time again. His only objective was me, just me, protect me. I never felt wanted before. Never felt cared for or loved. Never felt important to anyone. Then I met Charon. Then, I hated Charon. Hated him for making me feel so stupid, so vulnerable, so…damned attached. Sometimes, I still dream of that perfect man, coming to me on one of those animals. But every time I do, and I look to see who that man is, it's always Charon. It never changes. It's always him.


	46. If You Could Imagine

(Gob)

Damnit. Damnit. Damnit. I do not know what the fuck to do right now. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. So I pace. I'm pacing in front of the damned gates to the damned tower with Zack sucking his hand and staring up at me like I've lost my fuckin' mind and shit I fuckin' have. I mean, what do I _do_? Alright, alright, breathe deep. I light a damn cigarette, but I don't stop fucking pacing. Okay, alright. Let me go over this one more time in my head.

Charon left. Alright. The Brotherhood Outcasts came not too long ago. I _just_ saw him leave. He went with them, Zack and I watched because Zack ain't never seen an Outcast before. They said something was up with Dezbe, nothing serious, but she was asking for him. Fair enough. Yes, understandable. So Charon packs his gun and heads out with them. From Dez's story I know that they're on alright terms. I'm not worried. I wasn't worried.

Until then this fuckin' trader comes along, all sketched out and whatnot. He sees me and Zack as Zack and I see Charon vanish off somewhere over the fuckin' horizon. Trader asks if I know Charon, I say I do, and he hands me a letter to give to him. Well, with Charon being gone and this not being a regular occurrence, I open it. I shouldn't have, but I did. Well, maybe I should have. Shit I don't fucking know. Anyways, anyways…the letter is from Dez. She says she's fine, and she'll be home soon. So now what? Is this letter old? Is it a lie? Or did Charon just fucking walk into a trap? Shit I don't know.

I could chase him. I mean he ain't _that_ far but my truck is busted with a flat and I can't just go running off into the goddamned Capital Wasteland. Shit I can't even shoot a fuckin' target and I got a damn kid. So what the fuck do I do? I could leave Zack with Bessie Lynn, and take off into the fuckin' desert after Charon. But shit then I might get shot. Then who the fuck is gonna watch my kid? Goddamnit, damnit, damnit!

"Daddy?"

Zack's tiny voice makes me jump a damn mile. I stop pacing and look down at the kid. Shit.

"Yeah kid?"

I mutter, blowing smoke out my face.

"Daddy what's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"No, daddy. No, you're upset daddy. Is everything okay? Did the mean men hurt uncle Charon?"

I stare at the kid. Sometimes I fuckin' think they're smarter than adults with their un-complex minds.

"Listen to me, alright?"

Zack nods as I kneel down to see him at eye-level. I keep my damn cigarette away from him.

"No one, and I mean _no one_, can _ever_ hurt your uncle Charon. You hear me?"

"So…so he's okay?"

"Yes."

"What about the lady? The nice one who lives with us? Is she okay, too?"

"Yes. Charon will not let anyone hurt her."

Zack tries to figure it all out, and I sigh heavily. Shit. I know Charon is fuckin' tough and that ain't no lie, but the Outcasts…I ain't so sure. I mean, they _seemed_ nice, and Dez's story claims they were kind to them. So why lie? Maybe something _did _happen with Dez and this letter is just delayed. Yeah. Yeah that makes sense. I can believe that for a while.

"Daddy?"

"Yeah?"

"What's her name?"

"Whose name?"

"The lady who you like. The lady who lived with us."

I sit down in front of Zack and bring him on my lap. Shit. Eventually the kid was gonna start askin' and out here, there ain't no laws on parenting. If I wanna fuckin' tell my kid that people get blown to bits, I will. If I want to tell him the story of Dez and Charon, then shit I'll do that too. Leaving out all graphic content, of course. Unlike Dez.

"Her name is Dez, you know this."

"Are her and uncle Charon friends?"

"Best friends."

"Wow."

I pat Zack's head. I'll answer any goddamned question he has, so long as it keeps my mind off of fuckin' shit. Charon wouldn't go with people he didn't trust but _shit_. I mean, something could very well be wrong with Dez. Out here, it's not really an impossible situation. But out here being _Dez_ it kind of is. She's got more skills than I do, and survived this fuckin' long, it's hard for me to comprehend something happened. And if something didn't happen, and made something happen, then I would be at fault. Because I knew and because I got this fuckin' note.

"Tell me about my mommy."

Zack asks, and then my head goes quiet. He looks up at me with those big eyes, and shit I can't say no.

"She loved you very, very much."

I ain't never told Zack she died saving him. Or trying to. I don't even intend to, either. Telling him that might make him feel like it was his fault he died, when it wasn't. You see, what happened was this. Nova and I were playing with Zack, he was just a small bundle back then. We were in the foyer of Underworld, with Cerberus. I was countin' all ten fingers an' all ten toes on Zack cuz I still couldn't believe he was mine, and real. Nova put her hand on my thigh as we sat there, and I looked at her.

I'll never forget that look. She looked so happy, so full of hope and want and desire and life. She smiled at me, her deep eyes, set bright. I asked her what she was smiling about, and the damn woman just smiled more and said:

"For the first time in my life, everything is perfect."

I kissed her damn forehead right then, as we sat with everyone around us. By then, the ghouls had come to love and accept Nova. Zack gave them hope, and Nova was respected for bearing my child. I ain't never felt so perfect before. Which is why I should have known what was comin'. Whenever shit seems too perfect to believe, it is. Something has got to come in, and fuck it right up. And something did.

Next thing we knew, the doors to Underworld were blown off with a giant bomb or some shit. Everyone went running. Before I could stand, Nova took Zack from me. She held him close to her, and shit I knew he was safest there. A woman protects their children till the very end. That's exactly what Nova did. As Sara and Gunny started shooting up the place, and Cerberus went all-out on them, we ran. We ran to the Chop Shop and down into the lab where Doc Barrows kept those ferals. We ran to the back of the museum, going too fast for the damned ferals to even notice us. I didn't know what was happening, really, just that we had to run.

But they caught up to us, somehow. We were hiding up at the upper levels, in an old room. I tried to protect Nova, when they found us. I only got the shit beat out of me. I never felt like that before. The pain didn't bother me. The sight of my own blood didn't either. What bothered me was the cries and screams from my woman, and my child. The gun blast lasted forever, even when the screams fell silent. I couldn't protect my family. I felt like a bastard. I was. I am.

When I finally managed to pick myself up, I saw her, Nova. She was dead, in my arms, her blood covering my shirt. I never cried like I did right then. I cried like I was some fuckin' animal. It was all so perfect moments ago, and now…now Nova was dead. Zack wasn't anywhere to be found, so I knew they took him. But I held on to Nova's body, hoping, praying, that she'd come back to me. She never did, though. And its never stopped hurting.

"Will I see mommy one day?"

Zack asks me, and I look down.

"You've seen her a lot, you just don't remember. You see her now, too. You just don't know it."

"I do?"

"Sure. She's all around us, kid. She watches over you, sittin' on top of some big cloud up in the sky, and she smiles at you all the time."

"Do you see her, daddy?"

"No, but I know she sees us."

Zack smiles at me. That day, when Underworld was attacked, when I couldn't protect my family, when I lost my wife, doesn't bother me much. When Zack smiles at me, I know it was all for a good cause. That Nova didn't die in vain, that he's the last bit of her I have. He's safe now, here with me, with Charon, Roy, and all them other fuckin' ghouls watchin' him run and play. I know no one will let anyone take him from me now. Shit, even I won't let anyone take him.

"Does uncle Charon have a mommy?"

"I don't know. Ask him one day."

Zack nods, and stares out at the desert. I shift my body to bring the damn kid closer to me. He's all I got left in this fuckin' world. All I got, besides Dez and Charon, and those two are as consistent as a fuckin' clock. Just when you think you got some time to talk and relax, they take off again. But they come back. Shit they always have.

"Daddy, I see someone."

Instantly, I think it's a goddamned Raider or worse. So I stand up fast, an' I hold Zack really right to my chest. Squinting, cuz my eyes pretty much suck, I stare out over the horizon. Sure enough, there's something. Something with another something.

"I dunno what that is."

"It's your friend, daddy."

I look at him. It can't be Charon, he just up and left. Then…then it has to be…shit.

"You stay _right here_."

I hiss at Zack as I put him on the ground in front of the Tenpenny gate. He looks up at me, and he knows damn well I ain't kiddin' around. Pulling out the small pistol I carry, I hand it to him.

"You shoot this if _anyone_ besides me, or someone you know, comes. You got that?"

Zack nods. Shit we both know the damn kid goes off and toys with my guns. I've caught Charon tryna teach him a couple times, too. It didn't make me damn happy. Kid will figure it out, and I ain't goin' too far, so he should be set.

I only make it a few yards before I turn back around and return to Zack. This whole paternal thing really makes it hard for me to be independent. I ain't bitchin', though. I'd rather be wry and have him then not and see him die. I care about Charon and Dez a whole lot, but not enough to risk my only son. So I take my gun back and stand beside Zack. I hold his hand damn tight, and keep an eye out for anyone. The person soon comes into my view, and I have mixed feelings.

It is Dez. It's her, alright, and she's got some mangy mutt with her. But, shit. Am I supposed to be happy, or worried? Charon just left with an Outcast under the thought that Dez was injured, and here Dez is all well and fine. Shit. What the hell do I do? Of course I'm going to tell her, and I think she's gonna follow, but I should have followed Charon. I shoulda followed him before it was too late, and I shoulda told him Dez was fine. It would have cost that Outcast his life, but shit…shit shit shit…


	47. Killing Machine

(McGraw)

I had expected obtaining the ghoul would be difficult, but Casdin was right, as always. I was to go alone, to the tower where we suspected him to be. Rococo confirmed that Dez was en route to him, giving us just enough time to have our plan put into action. Of course, I was terrified when Casdin appointed me to be the one to confront the ghoul. Why not send a lower rank? I have no idea. Reading up on the files about Splinter Group Six, and what they had to say about subject 0001284936, I was quite wry on taking the mission. But I cannot turn down my commanding officer, and did as I was ordered to do.

0001284936, also known as 'Charon', has a history with the Outcasts. He and Dez once helped us infiltrate and ultimately destroy what once was the Pentagon, and once was the Citadel. It was my job to rig the self-made bomb to explode. My orders were clear: do _not_ let the ghoul live. At the time, I was unsure why Casdin wanted him dead so much. Five years later, I have my answer. He is a danger. Although, we suspect the intervention Dez created in his life has clouded his mind. His time spent as a 'bouncer' in Underworld also numbed his primal functions, and was able to make him basically docile. A docile killing machine.

At first, after the Citadel exploded and subject 0001284936 survived, Casdin wanted to use him to train soldiers. Wanted to create an army that would help further the plan we've been spending _years_ to complete. When subject 0001284936 refused, Casdin had no choice but to drop the subject. He claimed that forcing such a dangerous being into something he did not want to do, was suicide. I agreed only after reading the classified files.

The Outcasts have been formulating a plot, a plan, if you will. Our plan is to move the West Coast faction of the Brotherhood of Steel into the Capital Wasteland. We want to have posts set up in all major areas of the remaining United States, and form a government similar to what we had before the Great War. This would work, I'd like to believe. Creating a law and stable sense of government after over two-hundred years without would help rebuild society and the world as we know it. However, there have been flaws. We have studied the people of this new-world, and realized they have grown quite accustomed to living in a law-free society. Complete anarchy, if you ask me. This place needs law, stability, and reinforcement. What Casdin plans to ultimately do will be for the greater good. It will be for the benefit of the people.

The reason we cannot have the infamous Lone Wanderer out and about, is this: she is the only one smart, or stupid, enough to fight our cause. Not only do we suspect she will discover Casdin's plan, but also try to prevent it from happening. Her personality and previous actions have proved to us that although she is against the Enclave, she is not on our side. We are aware, that she will create quite the uproar. The people of this world are not yet ready to know of our plan. We wish to bring this upon them so suddenly, that there is no time to prepare, therefore, we feel less people will fight it. If Dez became involved, we are positive the world would be in an uproar, and a small civil war could possibly break out.

For now, I must continue on with the last part of my mission. I walk with the ghoul, Charon, as we grow closer to Fort Independence. My job is to risk my life, so to speak. I am to present him with his new contract, and basically see how it fares. Casdin assures me that because of his training, he will _have_ to obey. Although human emotions and this Lone Wanderer have obviously clouded his mind, Casdin feels he is still the person he was trained to be. This, is basically suicide.

"Charon."

I state as I stop walking. Casdin told me it was very important I remain calm, with a strong voice and a professional attitude. If this does not work, I am found out, and the whole plan, well most, is ruined. I am praying for the best.

"Yes? What is it? We must hurry."

His mind is set on one sole thing: Dez. It makes my stomach churn, to remember that she is in a relationship with the ghoul. Of course, thankfully, the Outcasts first objective when our plan is put into full action, will be to kill all remaining ghouls, Super Mutants, and any other abomination of the land. Reaching into my armor, I pull out the piece of paper with some writing on it.

"This is your new contract. Subject 0001284936, also known by 'Charon', is now under the employment of myself, Protector McGraw, until further notice is available."

I do not allow him to take the contract, Casdin stressed this to me time and time again. I hold it up so that he may read it. It feels like forever. My heart is racing in my chest, as the ghoul stares at it with a blank expression growing on his face. I'm worried he'll take the contract from me, and shoot me point-blank in the face with that deathly gun of his.

"What is it that you require of me?"

I sigh a deep relief. Any form of emotion is gone from his voice, his back is straight, his expression set on only me.

"What are your duties?"

Casdin drew up a list of question for me to ask the ghoul, as a precaution and as a comfort to myself. He says the questions will prove if he is lying or loyal.

"My duties are as my contract states. Protect my employer at all costs, and do as they command without any argument, question, judgment, or ramification."

"Good. Tell me, what is your name, and what was your position in training?"

"My name is Charon, a Greek reference to the ferryman of the Underworld. I was in Splinter Group Six, top-ranking in all fields required of me. Is that all you wish to know?"

"If I order you to do something you personally dislike, what happens?"

"Nothing. I shall fulfill my obligations, good or ill, I serve you."

I nod, quite satisfied with my accomplishment. Casdin's plan worked. The ghoul that was once such a fear and a threat to us, is now on our side. Tucking the contract into my pocket once more, I motion for him to follow me. I still have a job to do, before I return him to Casdin.

"Charon, I order you to tell me of the person we know as the Lone Wanderer. What is her name, her motives, and where is she now?"

"Her name is Dezbe. I am unsure of her whereabouts."

"I see. Does she know of the Outcasts' plan?"

"No."

I would _love_ to use this to my advantage right now.

"Charon, tell me, how trained are you?"

"I do not understand your question."

"How…hm…I'm not quite sure how to word this."

I want to ask him how well-trained he is. Casdin didn't say much, his files even less. We only know he was the best of the best in this Splinter Group Six organization, and was feared to be too much of a weapon than a person. I am wondering, is not how this came to be, but rather, what he knows. I suppose there's no proper way to word it, at least none I can think of, so I drop the subject. Mainly, I focus on the travel back to Fort Independence. It's not quite a long trip, we should be there relatively shortly. Then, I can hand over the contract to Casdin. He has plans for this ghoul, plans that hopefully end in his demise. This contract, is not like his previous one that I read about in the files.

The previous contract had allowed subject 0001284936 to defend himself if attacked by his employer. This one does not gain him that privilege. Rather, it basically states that no matter what, he is in debt and loyal to whomever employs him, no matter the cost. There are no loopholes or exceptions, Casdin made sure of that. This time, things for this ghoul are different. I wonder, and am looking forward to seeing, how this will all turn out.


	48. Free That Space

(Casdin)

Protector McGraw arrives back to Fort Independence alive. He comes into my office, with the ghoul in-toe. This pleases me. The plan to draw up another contract has worked, and I intend to use this to the advantage of the Brotherhood of Steel. Not just the Outcasts, for soon we will no longer have to bear that name. I plan on contacting the West Coast faction within the weeks, days perhaps.

"Give me the contract and take your leave."

"But sir…"

"McGraw, you have done your job and done it well. Do as I say, soldier."

McGraw listens as well as I hope subject 0001284936 will. He hands over the contract, and takes his leave. I smile to myself, smug and proud of my accomplishment.

"I am now your employer, Charon. Do you remember me?"

"Yes."

He answers without emphasis or emotion. The last time I saw this cretin he was in recovery for major wounds from the infiltration of the Citadel. His survival threw a wrench in my plans, but I was able to work it out. If I could not destroy this abomination of mankind, why not try to use it to benefit the cause of the Brotherhood? Obedient, well-trained, loyal soldiers are hard to come by these days, and people aren't exactly lining up at our door to sign up. Sometimes, you have to take what you can get.

"Tell me, Charon, what did you think of me during the short time you were in my company?"

"I thought you were an understanding man but became suspicious further on."

His blunt and monotone response solidifies that he is fully obedient to me, to only me.

"Right. You had good reason to in the past, but, it's over now. Shall we let bygones be bygones?"

"You are my employer and I shall do as you command."

"Then riddle me this, Charon. Do you still have the capacity to feel emotions?"

"Yes."

"What are you feeling now?"

"Anger towards you and myself."

"Why?"

"Because you have confounded me to a contract. Because I am aware, now."

"Aware of what?"

"Aware that I am not strong enough to fully deny my training after so much time."

Curious. Subject 0001284936 is still aware, but still obedient. I suppose this is from his training.

"I suppose then, you are also aware and remember the girl Dez?"

"…Yes."

I nod, beginning to pace around my office.

"I have an order for you, Charon. I order you to forget. Completely forget the past…what was it? Six, years or so? Either way, I order you to forget the girl, Dez, and any endeavors and encounters you have had. When and if you encounter her again, I do not want you to even _recognize_ her. If your contract should fall into the hands of someone else, and they order you to remember, do not. Free that space from your mind. You now serve me, from this point forward. Do you understand?"

"Yes.'

"Good."


	49. The Grave is Set Up

(Dez)

"What do you _mean_ he _left_?"

Gob doesn't deserve the yelling, but shit I can't help it.

"I mean he left! Some Outcast guy came and told him you were in trouble and he _left_!"

"Okay, okay, start from the beginning."

Smoke swirls around me, as I sit in Gob's dimly lit apartment. He retells the story of how Charon left just minutes before my return. He tells me someone from the Brotherhood Outcasts came, and simply took Charon away under the guise that I was in danger. Gob would never lie to me, but I can't believe it. I mean, why would the Outcasts do that? From what I remember, we're on good terms. It doesn't make any sense, none at all, even. Those days we spent with the Outcasts may be foggy and a bit hazy, but I know there wasn't fighting. I remember…what's her name? Anne? Yeah, well, she was nice to us. I remember she helped make Charon better, at the cost of a few square yards of my own skin. So…so why would this happen? Just a few hours ago, a day even, I met up with Rococo and all seemed well and fine. No, no this doesn't make sense at all.

"Gob, are you _sure_ it was an Outcast?"

I light another cigarette as my first one ends. Maybe Gob got the uniforms wrong. Maybe someone from the Brotherhood of Steel came. But, even then, I'm not too sure Charon would willingly go with them. It had to have been someone he trusted, or at least knew somehow.

"Yeah. They got that reddish Power Armor. It was them, Dez I ain't screwin' with you."

"I know, Gob. I know. I'm just trying to figure it all out is all. I mean, maybe it was someone else? Someone just wearing the armor?"

"And where would they get it? Just walk right up to an Outcast and ask to borrow it? Dez, he went with them."

"It just doesn't make any _sense_, Gob. Why would they lie about me to him?"

Gob shrugs, glancing over at a napping Zack. I get up and start pacing around the apartment, Dogmeat's eyes watching me.

"I dunno, kid. Maybe they…aw shit maybe they jus' want Charon's help and knew he wouldn't do it without you. Hey what's that mutt's name anywho?"

"His name is Dogmeat and you're not taking this very seriously."

"Cuz I don't see the problem. You're fine, and he's with people he knows. Give a few days and he'll be back."

Gob doesn't get it. I shake my head at him. When you're me, and everyone is still out to get you, a simple action like this has to be taken seriously. Someone offering you water in this desert has to be tested first, because it could be poison. At least, that's how it is for me. And shit, I still don't know why.

"No, Gob this is serious. You don't understand."

"What don't I understand?"

"That Charon could be in danger."

Gob lets out a laugh and I stop pacing. Looking over at him, I give him a glare.

"What's so damn funny?"

I don't see anything worth laughing at right now.

"You thinkin' Charon can get in trouble."

"He can, Gob. He has before."

"Yeah well, that's when he had his contract. Now, do you really think Charon could actually get _captured_?"

The gears in my head begin to tick and work. I used to be really smart, in the science and medical fields, but ever since I took that bullet to the brain, I've been a little off. I still got the scar, and some of the headaches that come with it. But even with my injured mind, it still works pretty alright. I can remember some things my father taught me, not all, but some. Right now, I'm remembering what he taught me about planning. That every good plan begins without anyone ever knowing it started. That it ends so fast no one knows what hit them. That they're so well thought out, everyone has no choice but to follow them.

"I think I've figured something out."

I say, my mind working in ways I thought long forgotten.

"Yeah? What's that, kid?"

Looking over at Gob, I give him a look. One that says 'hey, I'm home now, and home comes with all this bullshit'. Not sure how I make a look like that, but I manage.

"The Outcasts want me for something. They found out where Charon was, and obviously by now heard I was back. When we were with the Outcasts…"

"I know, I heard the story on Three Dog."

"Yeah, anyways, they must know I wouldn't willingly go to them…so they must be using Charon as bait."

"But what would they want you for?"

I shrug. I'm about as stumped on that as I am on Rococo's niceness. I mean, he should have mentioned something, right? Why just make small talk if they needed me? Why not just ask and take my 'no' as an acceptable answer?

"I don't know. I ran into an Outcast on my way here, and he didn't mention anything about needing my help. Maybe because he knew I'd say no? I don't know."

"So what are you gonna do? If they have Charon, then…"

"Then Charon's smart enough to figure out the plan. Once he gets there, he'll realize that I'm not there, and flip shit."

"Unless they lock him up somewhere."

"How?"

Gob shrugs, and I can see the worry forming on his face.

"I dunno, kid. They ain't like Raiders or Wastelanders. They got technology and shit like that. Gotta be some way to lock up a ghoul like Charon."

"Maybe. But if I go there, then I'm putting both of us at risk."

"So you ain't gonna follow him?"

"I don't know. That'd be feeding into their plan."

"Can't just leave him there, though. Might be in trouble."

As fucked up as it sounds, Charon could very well be in trouble. I mean, without his contract he's a free man, and a free killing-machine. The thought of him finding himself in a helpless situation is pretty…well, slim. But there's still a chance, and Gob does have a point. The Outcasts are well-armed, well-trained, and have a fortified base of operations. It is possible for them to put Charon in a position where it's listen or die. I've just always thought that since he burned his contract, he's kind of unstoppable. Maybe I've been wrong though. Maybe that's what's been getting me into so much trouble. I forget that Charon is a person, like me or Gob, and he bleeds if you cut him. It's easier to think of him as a force not to be reckoned with, than someone who can get in trouble. Whenever I've taken off, I always kept a small comfort in knowing no matter what, Charon would find a way to bail me out. I never stopped to think that even though he's free now, he might still need my help.

"Then I have to go. It's a risk, and it's playing into their plan, but if Charon is in trouble, he needs me. If I get there and he's safe…well, then the Outcasts have a _lot_ of explaining to do."

"If I know you two as well as I'd like to think, there ain't gonna be time for anyone to explain nothin' before you blast them all to holy hell."

Gob's comment gives me a small smirk. To be honest, though, I'm not feeling all too great about this. I had planned on coming home, seeing Charon, and escorting Lily and Mackenzie to Megaton. Hell, that's how badly I wanted to come back to him. That I'd offer to seriously guide them all the way to the safety of Megaton, just so I could have Charon again. So I didn't have to feel guilty about anything. When I got back from that, I had hoped Charon and I could escape to his apartment, our old apartment, and lock ourselves in that room and exhaust our sexual drives so much, all we'd be able to do is lie there and grunt in one another's general direction. I guess I can't do that now. Re-living the night we spent in the desert seems too much to ask. But…after all this bullshit, you'd figure I'm not asking for much.

"Say kid, why'd you name him Dogmeat?"

Gob asks and I blink slowly, looking at him.

"Oh. Because I told him if he didn't stop barking, I'd turn him into dog meat."

He chuckles at this, and reaches down to pat Dogmeat's head. As much as I want to enjoy the image of Gob and Dogmeat getting along, with Zack sleeping peacefully on the bed, and me spending time with my bestest friend in the world, I can't. I can't because something's missing. Charon. He's missing, and I have to bring him back here. But…I've come to this harsh realization.

If I stay here, with these people, with my friends, inside the tower I now call home, they'll be in danger. For as long as I live, there will always be people out to get me. Coming back here, proved that. I can only escape this place for so long, before it draws me back in. It's my home, the Capital Wasteland. The place I belong. Since I left Vault 101…people have been after me. Some good, some bad, some both. It's a never-ending chase, it seems. For some reason, I'm the object of everyone's lives, of everyone's objectives and missions. Because I'm the only one in this world crazy enough to do something about it. To sabotage or create, to fight an army with just a pistol. To fall in love with a ghoul mercenary, and befriend a beaten barkeep. I don't know what the Outcasts want with me, and I don't know if it's dangerous or not. By now, I've realized that even the most peaceful of plans, always become dangerous.

"I should go. If they only left an hour or two ago, they're probably at the fort by now. Better to get there sooner rather than later."

"Kid, you just got back."

"Duty calls, Gob. I'm sure Charon wouldn't lollygag if it was me who was in trouble."

"Yeah…I suppose you're right."

Gathering my things, I scoot Dogmeat's butt off of the floor. Gob doesn't say anything, as I open his apartment door to leave.

"Aren't you going to ask if I'm coming back?"

Gob shrugs, smoking a cigarette and rubbing his chin.

"You always come back, kid. There's no need to ask anymore."

I smile. His confidence in me makes me smile. I don't have much, aside from Gob and Charon. No friends, family, or place to truly call my own. When Gob or Charon smiles, and tells me they know something, like I'll come back, it makes me feel like I have a purpose out here. It makes me feel good.


	50. I Won't Forget You

I stand pretty close to Fort Independence. If anyone cared to scan the area, they'd see me, and my four-legged companion. I'm not doing this to give my cover away, actually, I'm looking for traps. Snipers, really. Oh and ambush areas. But with the fort's state, the only way anyone could snipe me is from a rooftop, and I figure they need me too much for that. They can't ambush me from behind the building because they have no idea when I'm coming. What are they going to do? Lie and wait for an undisclosed amount of time? I doubt that.

"Ready, Dogmeat?"

He barks in response, and I make sure my gun is holstered. I plan on walking in this place, calmly looking for Charon, without any sign of hostility. After all, my Kneecapper can't take out a bunch of Outcasts. Better to play it safe, play it coy. Get in, get Charon, and blast our way out. It'll be just like the old days, and hopefully add some youthful excitement to our lives before retreating home for good. At least, that's what I'm hoping. Hoping to return home and stay home. Living the mundane life after six years of non-stop adventure…seems pretty appealing. At least, for a time.

Dogmeat starts to growl as we get closer, and for good reason. But I don't want the Outcasts thinking I'm here to attack.

"Hush, Dogmeat. Not now."

I say, patting his head. He silences himself, and in time, too. Just as I look away from him, I look up and see the semi-familiar face of Anne Marie. Our eyes meet, and she begins to walk towards me. The last time I saw her, she was in a lab coat, with her hair pulled into a tight bun. Now, she's shaved her head to a crew-cut and wears Power Armor. I wonder, just how much change this world has undergone since my leave.

"It's been a long time, Dezbe."

She says to me, and I nod.

"It has. You've changed."

"Yes, as have you. I see you're still alive and well. Surprising. How's your head doing?"

"Pretty well. I've gotten most of my memories back, but I get dizzy spells and bad headaches from time to time."

"Ah, yes. We've heard your broadcast on GNR."

A small, awkward silence falls on us, and I cross my arms. This woman helped me and Charon so long ago. Now…she acts as if it never happened.

"I was told that Charon came here with an Outcast. Is that true?"

"Yes. He's inside. I'll take you to Casdin's office."

I don't question why. I know better. Questioning would lead to suspicion, and the gun on Anne's back tells me to keep my damn mouth shut. I just have to see Charon, and have him know I'm here, to get things going. Once I'm able to do that, he can shoot everyone if he damn well pleases. As long as we get home in one piece, I don't care what happens between now and then.

Fort Independence is just how I remember it to be. Old, decrepit, but in pretty decent condition. Anne leads me through the familiar set of doors, and into the long hall. I see the set of stairs to my right, and remember how Charon had such a hard time going up and down them. I remember the injury that caused his now-gone limp, and a shudder travels up my spine. What could they want with me? The Enclave and Citadel is destroyed, pure water floods the Potomac River, and there's no real crime aside from Raiders. Even the Super Mutant population is dwindling. There's no real need for me here anymore.

"Wait here."

Anne says as we stand outside a door. Henry Casdin's office. I remember it, remember how Charon would vanish for hours inside there, talking with him. She vanishes through that door, and I sigh. Dogmeat looks up at me, whimpering.

"I know, boy, I know."

I tell him, even though I don't know. I don't know why they really took Charon, what they need me for, or why Charon believed them so easily. But I guess I can't blame him. If someone I once knew and trusted came to me saying he was in danger, I'd believe them. I'd follow them to someplace in hopes of seeing him safe, and having been misinformed. Maybe that's what happened, though. I never thought of it like that. Maybe the Outcasts saw me somewhere, like Rococo did, and something along the lines got misconstrued. That's pretty plausible, right? I mean, ever play that game Operator? We used to in the Vault, to teach us how not to believe everything we hear. Someone would always mess it up, or something.

It feels like Anne's been gone forever, when she finally opens the door to Casdin's office. I look up at her, from gazing down at Dogmeat.

"You may go in now."

She says, and moves away from the door. There is no emotion in her voice, something I know means nothing good. Casdin probably wants to bitch me out for ditching on him five years back. Maybe that's why I'm here. They want me here, to ask me why the hell I left. I guess I'll find out soon enough, though. I'm sure Casdin will tell me why I'm here, why Charon's here, and then we can leave. At least, I hope.

Walking in, I look around the office. A desk, a few chairs, a terminal, it looks like every other office I've seen. There's a door behind the desk and I figure it leads to another room, or a closet even. Casdin is standing beside that door, his hands behind him, wearing Power Armor. My only question right now is, where's Charon.

"It's good to see you've come."

He tells me, and motions for me to take a seat. I do, and I also keep a close eye on Dogmeat. The fur on the back of his neck is sticking up. That's never good.

"I came because a friend of mine said he saw Charon being led here."

I state why I'm here to Casdin. I see no real reason not to trust him. He is the one who ordered J.T and the other fellow to help Charon after the explosion at the Citadel.

"Yes, your friend was not mistaken."

"Well, why? I mean, why did you do that? He said you told him I was in trouble or something."

Casdin sits down at the desk in front of me. He folds his hands, his Power Armor screeching against itself. I flinch at the noise.

"Again, he was not mistaken. Before I go any further, Dez. Tell me, do you know what the ghoul possesses?"

"Charon? He has a shotgun, some caps, and leather armor. Why?"

"No, no. You misunderstood me. I mean, are you aware that he is equipped with a very rare set of skills?"

"I'm aware that he was trained very well in combat. I know of his past, if that's what you're getting at."

I make sure to not get too agitated at Casdin. Dogmeat will pick up on this and I've actually come to like the stinky dog.

"Dezbe, what I'm trying to tell you is, that Charon is a valuable asset. You've traveled with him, and I'm sure you've seen the effects of his training first-hand. You must know by now, that he is far too dangerous to be following around a foolish girl such as yourself. The ghoul, subject rather, is not a person, but one of the greatest weapons ever created."

Subject? Charon? What?

"What the hell are you talking about? Where's Charon?"

Casdin holds his hand up to quiet my growing voice. Angry, I sit back down, my nails digging into the arms of the chair.

"Charon is safe, with me. If you like, you may see him."

I nod, and Casdin stands up. None of this is making sense. If they wanted Charon, why have me come here? I'm so confused right now. I just want to see him, and know that he's alright. So I watch Casdin. I watch as he stands up, and opens the door behind him. It leads to another room. From what I can see, it's a small room. Probably Casdin's bedroom, even.

"Charon, could you come out here?"

He calls, and soon, I see his figure through the doorway. I want to be excited. I want to jump up and hug him, telling him I'm happy he's safe, but something holds me back. There's something different about Charon. In the way he walks and in the look he has in his eyes. Something I know I've seen before. Slowly, I stand up, my hand close to my gun, just in case. Charon comes into the light of the office and stands. He looks at Casdin, without emotion. My eyes grow wide, as I realize what's happened.

"Charon is now under my employment."

Casdin confirms my suspicions.  
"_How_?"

I grit through angry, clenched teeth.

"By contract, of course. You see, we knew that his training was so extensive, that even if for a while he felt what it was like to live as a free man, that he would still obey a written contract. It's not him we need out of our way, it is you. But that's for another day. For now, we've figured out a way to utilize Charon and his talents, to aid us for our cause."

I don't want to think of the scheme they've cooked up. I don't want to think of how Charon could help them, or even why they want him to. All I want to do is take that contract, and fix this fucking mess.

"…Charon?"

I say, and his eyes glance over to me. Casdin makes no effort to stop my advances towards him. He knows I won't attack him now. He knows I won't draw my weapon and risk being killed by the only person who meant anything to me. Walking around the desk, I cautiously lift a hand to Charon's face, resting it on his cheek.

"Charon, look at me. Do you remember me?"

"No."

His answer requires no thinking. He simply answers, just as he did when he was employed by Ahzrukhal.

"Yes you do. I _know_ you do. Charon, _listen_ to me, alright?"

"You are not my employer. I will not do as you ask."

"Ah, listen to the girl, Charon. I'm getting amusement out of this."

Charon returns his gaze to me. His blank, expressionless, motionless gaze. Worry fills my mind, my heart beats faster, my palms start to sweat, as the severity of the situation falls over me. I search his eyes, looking for something, anything. A tick, a notion, that there's a hint of memory. There's nothing.

"I am listening."

He states, unscathed by my hand on his cheek.

"Charon, you _know_ me. My name is Dezbe, don't you _remember_? You saved me, remember? It's _me_, Charon. _Me_."

He blinks, and I pull my hand away.

"I do not remember or know you."

I stare at him, just as blank as he stares back at me. The man that I have counted on for years, is gone. I know that the only way this could happen, is if what Casdin says is true. If that's so, the contract they have is entirely different than the one Charon first had. I don't know how different, but it scares me either way.

"Dezbe, you will remain here in Fort Independence until we can figure out the best plan of action for you. Your presence in the Capital Wasteland poses a threat to the Brotherhood Outcasts' plan."

"How do you intend on making me stay?"

He knows I'll fight. He knows I'll shoot and kill each and every one of his fucking soldiers.

"Charon, if this girl tries any attempt at an escape, kill her. I want you to watch her closely until I finish drawing up the plans for what we talked about earlier. If, by chance, she tries to harm you, I want you to defend yourself as you see fit. Understood?"

"Yes."

"Good, now show her where she is to stay."

Charon nods, and looks at me. He takes a firm hold on my arm, and literally drags me out. I'm too busy kicking and screaming to comply.

"Goddamn you Casdin! I'll kill you! I'll fucking kill you!"

Dogmeat barks, but he doesn't attack. When Charon finally gets me out into the corridor, he shuts the door behind him, and lets go of me. Looking up at him, angry tears force their way out.

"I _hate _you!"

I tell him, quiet, hushed, hissed. He says nothing.

"You're so fucking _stupid_! How could you _do_ this after _years_ of being free?"

He says nothing, but begins walking down the hall. I have no choice to follow him. I know Charon. If he truly does not remember me anymore, then he will have no problem killing me. I'm not sure what scares me more. Him actually killing me, or him going on to help the Brotherhood Outcasts in their super-secret plan of super-secrecy. I think of how the Talons got a hold of me, and his contract. How even then he was still able to show some defiance, some anger towards certain things. Now…now it's ten times worse. The whole idea that he _still_ listens to a contract _enrages_ me. It enrages me so much, I run up to his back, and push him with all my might, with angry, rage-filled tears screaming down my face. He stumbles forward, falling. Violence is all I know. Violence brought us together in the beginning. It brought us back together at Fort Bannister. It brought us back to one another at Point Lookout. This time, though, violence won't bring us back at all.

I'm on top of Charon before he can get up. Dogmeat stays back, knowing this isn't a battle for him. He's on his back by the time I get to him, by the time I position myself on his torso.

"How could you!"

I scream, hitting him with all my strength in the cheek. My long hair falls out of my ponytail, and spreads across my face, blocking my peripheral vision. I don't care, I don't. I try to wrap my hands around Charon's neck. Not to choke him, but to get at a pressure point he taught me about so long ago. Before I can do that, a sharp pain hits me in the side of my own neck, and I crumple on top of him. For a moment, all is well. I hear Charon's heavy, raspy breathing below me. Feel the up and down motion of his chest moving. The coarse feel of his armor against my cheek. For a minute, I feel like we're simply laying together.

His body moving beneath mine shakes me from my peaceful trance. It brings sharp pain, as he pushes me off of him. I don't have time to react or think, as Charon stands, above me. He grabs me by the front of my shirt, holding me tight. He balls his right hand into a fist, and I manage to work out a sadistic smirk.

"Go on. Do it."

I mutter, and he does. Pain, unbearable pain, shoots through my body, starting at my face. Blood spurts from my nose, and I'm sure it's broken. I feel so hurt, and so damn _angry_. Once I feel his hand slide away from me, releasing me from his grip, I stand up. Ignoring the blood, the crippling pain, I tackle him. I tackle him just like he once taught me to. Wrapping my arms around his torso, I propel myself forward, knocking him into a wall. He hits it with a 'thud' and I move fast enough to avoid another hit from him. Blood leaks on my lips, and I taste the salt it leaves behind. I don't stop. I reach up, almost having to jump because he's a full foot taller than me, and I hit him on the side of his chin.

"Stop it right _now_!"

I yell at him, knowing full well it won't do me any good. But I try anyway, I try and stop myself from hitting him again. My attempt only gains me more pain, brought on by a breath-catching blow to the stomach from Charon. I fall to my knees, sputtering, as blood from my nose drips into a small puddle on the concrete floor. I can't breathe. Dogmeat barks, snarling and angry.

"Shut _up_!"

I yell as my breath comes back to me. Looking up, I see Charon standing over me. Scowling up at him, I know he won't stop unless I do. I know, that right now I can't try and convince him of anything.

"You're…a fucking…asshole."

I sputter as I try to stand up. He makes no motion to help me. He doesn't even _speak_ as I use the wall to stand up. I don't even bother to wipe the blood from my face. Even if it does nothing, I want him to see he made me bleed. Charon watches me closely, as I regain my composure.

"I will not hesitate to kill you if you attempt to attack me once more."

He states as if he's talking to a prisoner. But, I guess I am. They won't torture me here, I know that, but they'll keep me here as long as they need. Without further argument, I follow Charon down the long hall. Only when he turns his back on me, do I lift my hand to feel my nose. No, not broken. Good. Resetting a broken nose is painful. I didn't want to have to do that. Not here, not now. Charon leads me to the end, where a single door is. He opens it, and I peer inside. A small room, with a bed, a desk, and a wardrobe is inside. Well, at least the Outcasts aren't ditching out on comfort. I walk inside, Dogmeat sullenly following, and turn to face Charon. He walks inside the room as well, and closes the door behind him. For a minute, hope floats in my chest. I think that maybe, just maybe, Charon is doing all of this for show. And that now we're alone, he'll take me and apologize for hitting me. He'll kiss me and make it all better.

"What are you doing?"

I ask, hope masked by curiosity.

"My employer requested I watch you carefully. I am doing as I have been ordered."

I nod. Hope, fail. Charon stands in front of my door, the only way in or out of this room. I shake my head, and dump my possessions on the floor. Dogmeat jumps on the small bed, and curls up. He knows there's no danger now.  
"I guess you're going to listen to him just as well as you listened to Ahzrukhal, huh?"

I stop caring. I stop, because in my mind, I'm forming a plan.

"How do you know of Ahzrukhal?"

Charon asks, not curious, no emotions, remember? He simply asks. I sit in the chair at the desk, and look up at him.

"Oh, you told me. You told me about Ahzrukhal, and how once a week you'd leave and come back with girls for him. How he stole your first contract from Carol, and how Greta used to really like you."

"I have no recollection of ever encountering you before."

I shrug, looking around the room, and dabbing at my still-bleeding nose every once in a while.

"I know, your employer told me. You know, Gob was the one who sent me here. Told me you needed me, so I came."

Charon says nothing, his eyes narrow threateningly at me. I continue to push his mental buttons.

"I came today just like I did…well, I guess you wouldn't remember that night in the desert now would you? Funny."

"You and I have never met. How is it you are aware of so many things about myself?"

Cocky, I shrug, and put my arms behind my head. Sniffing up some blood, I shake my head.

"Because we _have_ met, Charon. We've met, we've fought, fucked, laughed, well I've laughed. We spent a good two years together, almost."

"You are lying."

"No, I'm not."

"We have _never met_!"

Charon raises his voice, and I look up at him from the chair. Yes.

"Okay, if you say so."

I say as I smirk at him. Want to know my plan? Drive him mad. Drive him so fucking insane that he _has_ to remember. I don't care if it gets me a broken arm or so in the process. If I can just get him to remember me, remember what we've been through and everything in between, I know I'll be safe. I know, that none of this will ever matter.

"You seemed angry right there."

I point out, still casual, still pretending I don't care.

"No."

He can lie, but I can see the truth in his eyes. He's worried. He's angry. He doesn't know what to call these things he's feeling now, because to him he's never felt before. I can look past those milky whites of his, and see that he's having a mental breakdown. Behind that cold visage, his mind is ticking, working, he's asking himself questions.

"Do you…remember someone named Argyle?"

I ask, and Charon slowly nods. I shrug, pretending I don't care. Play it cool, Dezbe. This kind of plan takes time. For now, I'll go along with the Outcasts. Play stupid. Pretend I know nothing. When the times present themselves, I'll do my best to find information on whatever I can. When I'm not doing that, I can fuck with Charon.

Seems like a waste of time? Well, I got all the time in the world now. I mean, I'm literally stuck here. Charon's going to be my goddamned watchdog, and Dogmeat's about as useful as a Molerat in a Mirelurk sewer. The Charon I know, the one I fell in love with, is still there. I know he is. I know that somewhere in that head of his, the memoires of us are present. All I have to do is get them out. Five, six and a half years, really, of freedom and knowing and _being_ can't be erased like that. Sure his training was longer, but I've made more of an impact. I mean, you know what I mean, right? I can see it in his eyes, the emotions he's not allowed to feel or express, they're there. Swimming around. Waiting. I can wait too. I can be patient. For the second time in our lives, _I_ get to save _him_. It makes me feel useful.

"Oh, just wondering is all. So…you just gonna stand there?"

"My orders are to keep a close eye on you."

So the time passes. The hours tick by slowly, so slow it's almost painful. Charon carefully takes apart my gun, putting some pieces in his pocket, others he leaves near Dogmeat. I don't bother to ask what he's doing. It's obvious he's disarming me. Then, I can't shoot him. I wouldn't anyways. I don't think I'd ever shoot Charon, even if I had to. Rather shoot myself, really. And I think Casdin knows this. Why else would he appoint Charon to watch me, when he has a full team of devout soldiers? He knows I wouldn't use brute force on Charon. That I'd rather take a bullet than give him one. It makes me angry, knowing people can manipulate both Charon and I so well.

So I sit in anger, and in silence. I feel Charon's dog-tags around my neck. They tug at me uncomfortably. I want to take them off, to hand them to him, but I can't. Not now, anyways. If I do it now, he might think it's a bluff or that I robbed them off of him when he got into the scuffle. No, I think I'll wait on handing them over. Even though I'm not making much progress in the whole…'getting Charon to remember' plan. I'm beginning to wonder why. I'm carefully thinking over all the options I have, before I come to a conclusion. Better than acting on impulse, anyways.

I could try to escape, but Charon would shoot me. Least then I'd be out of everyone's way, and Charon could continue to live blindly by Casdin's side. But I can't do that. Charon stuck by me when I couldn't tell my ass from my elbow and my own reflection from Gob's. Just because he seems like a lost cause doesn't mean I should give up so easily. I could blend in. Pretend I agree with whatever plan Casdin's cooked up or whatever, but I don't think that'd work, either. Seems like they know me too well. My best option right now is to lie low, and go along with whatever Charon or someone else tells me to do. It'll give me more time to think, more time to formulate a plan. More time…to figure out a possible way, to bring_ my_ Charon back.

You know what I remember? 'Learning' to snipe with Charon. I remember thinking it was the greatest moment in my life back then, even though I knew how to do it. We were so close, and he was nice to me. I felt like I could do anything I wanted. It was a feeling of…freedom he gave me. A feeling of being important. I don't know why such a simple action or event gave me that feeling. But…it did. It was so simple, so easy, so…depressing. I knew back then, that even though I was so happy, there were people who weren't. But…I think that just opened my eyes to something.

I can do anything. I can do anything I want. Without permission. I can shoot a Mini Nuke at a base without remorse. I can explode two factions of two separate governments. I can change the world, with one simple choice. I can shoot a gun from a hundred yards away and hit my target. I can make someone love me by simply showing kindness. Maybe that's why the Outcasts want me here. Because they know I can do all this. They know I'm the only one crazy enough, driven enough, to put a hole into whatever plan they have.

Glancing up at Charon as he stands in front of the door, with his arms crossed, and eyes fixated on something on the floor, I want to tell him to look at me. So I stand up. I stand up from the chair I've been sitting in for hours and just thinking. His eyes move, they're fixated on me now, on how I'm moving, standing, on how I'm just being.

"I'm hungry."

I tell him, and he nods his head slowly.

"I will go inform Casdin of this."

"No, I want to come with you."

"You are to stay here. If not, I am to take you wherever you may need to go on the grounds."

"Since when? I never heard Casdin say that."

"We discussed this before you arrived."

I sigh. Damn prick thought of everything. Well…maybe not _every_thing.

"You know who I miss?"

I ask him, pacing slowly in front of him.

"No."

"I miss this ghoul I met while I was in New Vegas. His name was Raul."

Charon says nothing. If he could express emotion right now, I'd call that one 'confusion'.

"Raul was a nice ghoul, similar to your friend Gob. We lived together for a time, I helped him get out of…a sticky situation. He became my friend. One night, I'll never forget that night. It was pretty awesome. We were on the roof of our shack-house, just looking up. See in New Vegas it was too bright for stars, cuz of all these lights and shit and whatnot. But we made do. So we're up there, right? And we're just gazing, looking, and he kisses me."

I watch Charon's eyes closely as I talk and pace.

"I didn't expect it at first, but I kissed him back. I don't know what came over me, or why I did what I did, but I'm glad. The kissing led to touching, which led to the hasty removal of clothes, which…well, you get the idea. It was so _nice_. So warm and comforting. You know, like I wasn't alone. It was really sad, when I left him. I really wish I didn't, and you know, if I had the chance, I'd go back to him. Raul. Wonder where he is now…"

Okay. Okay so I lied. Raul and I never did anything like that whatsoever. But it's part of my plan. My plan that I'm kind of just tossing together as I go at this point. I'm quiet, letting the story sink in to Charon. His right hand twitches a bit, as he lets his arms rest at his sides. The dog-tags, his, tug at me once more. Jealousy is a powerful emotion, more powerful than anger I think. Even if Charon doesn't remember me, he'll feel this. He'll feel it, and have to wonder why. It's what I'm banking on, as he excuses himself from my room. As he leaves, locking the door behind him.


	51. Watching

(Charon)

She is insatiable and annoying. I have never in my entire career encountered such a woman. I do not understand why my employer wishes for me to watch her every waking move, but I obey. Listening to her claim she knows me is obnoxious. Although I am sure I have never met her before, there is question in my mind.

I wonder, how it is this annoying little brat knows of Ahzrukhal. Of the errands I was forced to do for him. How does she know of Gob and Carol? Moreover, why was she so adamant on convince me that she did? The entire situation is confounding in my eyes. If I had my own personal choice, I do not believe I would opt to spent time with such a rapacious person as she. Not only is she exceedingly violent, but she is also stubborn, hotheaded, immature, unknowledgeable, and impulsive. Traits I do not wish to be around, and traits I do not admire.

However…however there is one thing. The girl, Dezbe I believe her name is, broke the silence with such an odd tale. I wished she had remained quiet, and what kind of a name is 'Dezbe', anyhow? I am sure her parents were Wasteland Junkies if not irresponsible Raiders. Aside from that, though, her story…her story was…I am not quite sure. She began to speak of a ghoul, one I have never met I am sure. His name, she claims, is Raul. She spoke of an intimate night they shared together, and something…something strange inside of me shifted. I am not sure what to make of it, but it was not enjoyable.

I am still, to my dismay, feeling it now. It creates a plunge in my stomach. The same as thinking of something you have been putting off that needs to be done, but you are not looking forward to doing. I had to excuse myself from her quarters, because I felt I could not control myself. I had the…the unexplainable urge to…to cause harm. Partially to her but partially, for some reason, to this unknown ghoul. I have never met him, not even in passing, but I find I strongly dislike him. I do not know the reasoning for this. Although it is strictly against my training to ask questions of my employer, it is not against my contract.

With a steady pace, I walk down the long corridor of Fort Independence towards my employer's office. My standing orders are to watch the girl, and I am. I have locked her in her room, with no means of escape. I have disarmed her, and a girl as small as she can not possibly break down a solid, wood door, no matter how old. There are no windows in her room, simply concrete walls and flooring. She is confined, and I am doing my duties.

Still, my employer is quite shocked to see me. I stand with my back straight, knowing I may get severe repercussions for my actions.

"Charon? What are you doing here? Where is the girl?"

There is a tone of urgency and fear in his voice. Does he not trust me? I do not know why he would not. I have done nothing distrustful of him.

"She is locked in her room, with no means of escape. I have broken apart her weapon, and taken some of the pieces with me, so that she may not place it back together."

"Well, that's good to know. But I'm still wondering why you're here."

"I would like to ask some questions, if I may."

My employer sets down a piece of paper he was reading, and looks up at me from his seat behind his desk. I watch closely as he rubs his temples. I know how to analyze people. I know there is something distressing him.

"Very well, sit."

I sit, obeying the small order as I have been trained to do.

"What do you want to ask me, Charon?"

"I would like to ask you about the girl, if I may."

"What about the girl?"

"She claims to know of me. She tells me things that no one else could know, unless I myself told them. I have no recollection of sharing some of the things she speaks of with anyone. I would like to know why and how she knows this."

My employer looks at me. He rubs his chin, before leaning back in his chair.

"Charon, you are a well-educated person, are you not?"

"My trainers did all they could to ensure I knew everything from combat to literature."

"Right, well, then you are aware of a woman's powers?"

"I do not feel I understand."

"Charon, women are…they are strange beings. In times of disparity, they will often appeal to us. They will manipulate us into doing things we would not normally do, while whispering sweet nothings in our ears. This woman, girl, is no exception. I am sure in her travels she has witnessed things, and heard tales referring to you. She is simply trying to appeal to your better nature, in order to convince you to break your contract with me, and work for her. Do you understand?"

"Yes, yes I believe. I should not take anything this woman says to me, to heart then?"

"No. She will tell you lies and deceive you in order for her to advance yourself. Do not even listen to her, if you can help it."

"I see."

"Now, return to your post until further orders are given. I do not wish for her to escape."

"She will not, under my watch."

"Well, then see to it."

I nod to my employer as I take my leave. His answer…although useful, did not supply me with what I was looking for. Perhaps it is my inability to properly express the turmoil inside of me, that creates the communication barrier between us. I do not know how, or even if I am allowed, to tell my employer of the strange feeling I have deep within myself. I was never trained to argue, either. So when I am ordered to do something grudging, as returning to this foolish girl, I must obey. Despite, that I would much rather sit in a solid room alone and swallow ten gallons of Molerat blood than spend another moment with her.

Before I unlock the door to the girl's room, I stand outside for a moment. I am not sure why, but I do. I feel myself holding my breath, and listening to her, as she speaks to the dog that blindly follows her.

"I wanted you to meet him. Like him like I used to, I guess. We'll figure something out though, Dogmeat. It's not all lost. There's still Gob. Even if Charon's gone forever, there's still Gob."

She speaks of me as if she has known me. As if she as spent time in my presence and has witnessed the same things as I. She talks of an old acquaintance of mine, Gob. I do not know of his life, so perhaps they have met. From what I hear from this girl's stories, they have, and they are close.

Without further hesitation, I unlock and open the door. I am not too thrilled about being ordered to do such a mundane job. I was not trained as a babysitter. However I was trained to obey, and that is what I am doing.

"You came back."

She says, softly. It is the first time since our encounter that she has spoken with softness in her voice. It confuses me, the tone she has.

"I am ordered to watch you."

For an odd reason, the girl gives me a sad, half-smile. Normally, from anyone else, I would not care nor ponder about it. I find I am wondering, now. Wondering why this girl, whom I have never met, is smiling at me. In response to her smile, I let out a guttural growl. I know she hears me, because she blinks, and looks away. This girl…seems complex. Before I left, she was acting like the world was hers and nothing else mattered. Now, it seems she is lost, and perhaps a bit sad. I do not know. I do not even know why I am bothering with such analytics.

"Wanna hear a story?"

She asks, in that soft voice. I do not know what to say, nor do I know what I am required to say.

"If conversation is what you wish, then I shall provide it."

I am not employed by her, but I shall treat her with respect so long as she does not try to attack me as she did in the hall. My employer told me to keep her calm, and to not anger her. He directed me to speak with her if I wished, and to keep her in this room. I do not know why he is so concerned, this girl seems more fit to be in an institution.

"…I met someone, a long time ago. I was nineteen then, when I met him. It was an accident. He was told to kill me, but he didn't. Then he worked for me. I told him to do something one day, and he didn't. We hated one another. We couldn't even stand to be in the same square mile of each other."

The girl chuckles a bit as she shakes her head, looking at the floor beneath her feet.

"Hey, you got a smoke before I keep talking?"

I do. I reach inside of my pocket, and hand her one. My employer did not say I was allowed to smoke, so I do not. I do not wish to ask, as requests for such things are not allowed in my training.

"Thanks. Anyways, after a while, me and this guy somehow…got close. I'm not sure _how_ exactly. I mean, I know how _I_ got attached, but him…him I'm not so sure."

"I see."

"I mean, for the first time in my life, I felt I mattered to someone. That meant a lot to me back then, and even now it does. Sure, he didn't feel the same at that point, but I didn't care. I had someone with me, to take care of me and protect me. He eventually came around, though. He started to return my feelings, and…and I liked it. He fell in love with me, I guess you could say, and kept all the bad things away."

"Hm."

She looks up at me from her spot on the bed. Her dog sleeps beside her. Smoke dances in the dim light, around her head, and out of her mouth as she exhales. I do not know what I am to say to her stupid tale.

"He told me…a while ago, that he would dream about me. That each time in the dream, I'd beg him to never leave. Each time he promised he wouldn't, but I guess I never believed him. In his dream, anyways."

"Does this tale of yours have a point or are you just simply talking?"

The look she gives me is indescribable. Her eyes are wide, her mouth a small U-shape. There is a sad smirk hidden in there, as she casually takes another drag of her cigarette.

"No, no there's no point. Just talking, I guess."

Her yawning indicates that she is tired. I do not sleep, if I do it is very little. I am hoping this girl falls asleep quickly, so that I may have some quiet. It may even perhaps allow me to close my own eyes. If she is sleeping, then there is nothing preventing me from getting my own rest. Casdin warned me that this female is clever, so perhaps letting my guard down, even slightly, is not in my best interest. I do not wish for the girl to somehow escape, and have myself fail at my objective.

She yawns again, but does not lie down. Instead, she does something…peculiar. Outstretching her arms, she closes her eyes, and moves her fingers in some sort of fluid motion.

"What are you doing?"

I ask, wondering if this is part of her trickery. The girl opens one eye, and glances at me.

"I'm playing the piano."

What? Has she gone mad? There is no piano in sight, nor have I seen one since the bombs fell. Although, her mention of the instrument does bring back memories of an employer I had before the war. He enjoyed music, and had me learn to play the piano. I must admit I felt quite foolish, playing such an odd instrument for him, but I enjoyed it. The sounds I remember it making brought me comfort, as well as a sense of peace. But this girl, this girl has no such piano. I highly doubt she does not even know where to begin looking for one. Yet, here she is, imagining herself playing it.

"There is no piano there."

I tell her, feeing stupidly obvious. The girl looks at me again, a full smirk on her face.

"I know. I'm _pretending_ to play the piano. What else am I gonna do in this stinkin' room?"

"Perhaps you could sleep. It would do you good and allow me to get some peace and quiet."

"Hm. I don't feel like sleeping."

"You do not have many options for entertainment."

Her hands lower to her thighs, and she sighs. Carefully, she scoots her sleeping mutt over and rests her back against the wall. Her extinguished cigarette butt rests on the concrete floor beneath her bed.

"You know, Charon, you don't have to be so damn rigid."

"I am doing my job."

"Make it fun."

"No."

She gives me a coy look. As if she is up to something. I sense that she is, and mentally prepare myself for any of her tricks.

"You're just so used to working for Ahzrukhal, I guess. Standing in the corner of the Ninth Circle for so long must have really bothered you."

"You do not know what you are speaking of. I suggest you close your mouth, little girl."

My comment does not anger her. In fact, it does the opposite. She giggles at me, running her fingers through her multi-colored hair. I suspect from her sun-tanned skin, that her hair has turned such colors from the sun. It is red, a deep red, but there are bits of orange and brown within that red. When she shifts, I can see tan lines from her clothing, revealing pale skin beneath them.

"Why don't you sit down. You're supposed to keep me in here, right? Well if you don't sit down, I'll start getting rowdy."

As much as I hate to admit this, the girl has a point. Grudgingly, I sit beside her. When she moves to make room for my large body, I see a twisted scar on her torso. I do not see where it ends, or where it begins, but she notices me looking at it.

"You like war stories?"

Slowly, I nod my head. Perhaps we have found a common ground. Something I will not hate listening to, and something to keep her calm.

"Well, I got this scar in a place called The Pitt."

Yes, I have heard of The Pitt. Heard it was a land of horrible slavery and radiation. I have not been there, but I have heard stories. I watch as the girl, Dez, she lifts her shirt slightly, and pulls her pants down a bit. The scar is immense. It travels down her thigh to where I cannot see, up and around her ribcage, to the upper part of her back. The grove of it tells me it was once very deep, and I must say I am interested in it.

"What happened?"

I ask, simply curious as to how a simple human with no training and seemingly no knowledge of basic first aid could survive such an injury.

"I was fighting in this arena. This guy came up to me with an Auto Axe called the Mauler. I wasn't wearing very good armor, they didn't give me any, so I basically was in there half-naked in slave garb. He got me good, but he was my last opponent. I took him down, and then was taken away by a nice woman named Midea."

"How were you able to defeat him, if you received this injury?"

"I almost didn't. I almost bled to death right there. But I'm pretty stubborn, and I remembered someone very important waiting for me back home. So I mustered my strength, picked up my gun, and shot him when he was cheering to the crowd. If you're stubborn enough, you can survive almost anything."

Another thing I hate to admit, is that I am finding myself admiring this girl. Her will and ability to survive in this world, without any training, is humbling. I, who has been in many more fights and battles, have never received such an injury. Even if I had, I do not think I would have survived to tell of it.

"And this one…"

She slightly unbuttons the top of her Adventurer armor, and shows me her collarbone. She points to a spot, where what looks like bone is showing through.

"…Is from me picking at my skin when I was sick with Trog. Same thing with this."

She shows me her wrist, which looks exactly like mine. Her veins and muscles are exposed, and lined gently with skin around the edges.

"Trog?"

I ask, since I have never heard of such a thing.

"Almost like Feral Ghouls. Only, you run around on all fours, and eat people. Well, exactly like Feral Ghouls. 'Cept you got flesh and pointed ears and sharp claws."

"I see."

She re-buttons her top, and points to another scar on her abdomen.

"I got uhm…grazed with a bullet here a while back. And these I got in Point Lookout."

She points to a set of three diagonal scars across her left eye. It looks as if something clawed her. They are brighter than the rest of her scars, so I assume it is recent.

"I got this one when Quinn shot me by mistake."

Although she is busy showing me a deep, threatening-looking scar just near-missing her heart, my mind is not fully paying attention. She stated a person named 'Quinn' shot her. Could it be, perhaps, Quinn from Underworld?

"I know of Quinn."

I tell her, and she nods.

"Yeah I know you do. You stood by me till I woke up from this. And then took me to Rivet City when I got really sick from an infection it caused."

She says it so casually. Talking, as if I _had_ in fact, done those things. Of course I do not believe her, since I have no recollection of this, but I play along.

"I see."

The girl picks up on my tone of voice, and covers the scar on her chest. She shakes her head, as she cranes her neck away. Then I see something. Something faded, and almost unnoticeable. It is a welt. Similar to something you receive when you burn yourself with a hot wire. Before I can stop myself, I grab her neck, and pull her closer, examining it. She does not flinch at my touch, but I can tell she is initially surprised. When she notices what I am looking at, she lets out a small, quiet chuckle.

"I'm not surprised you're curious about that one."

I let her go and look up at her. I still wish to examine the welt, but I have stepped out of my bounds.

"Why do you say that?"

I inquire, annoyed with her presence now.

"_You _gave it to me. At Fort Bannister. Never really did forgive yourself for it, either."

"Fort Bannister is a Talon Company base. I would never be in such a place."

"_Was_."

"Excuse me?"

"It _was_ the Talon base. It's gone now. I blew it up with a few Mini Nukes a handful of years back. But yeah, you gave it to me."

"You must stop insisting that I know of you, that we have met, and that any of what you claim is true. I have never seen you before, and your lies are quite the annoyance to me."

The girl shrugs and lays down. I cannot believe I have to continue to watch her for an undisclosed amount of time. Although she seems to have the ability to survive, I do not see why Casdin will not allow me to kill her now, and be done with this.

"I'm not lying, Charon. I think that's the real annoyance right there."

She begins to drift to sleep without so much else. I remove myself from her bed and stand comfortably beside the door. The silence is welcome. Soon, all I can hear is the soft sound of her mutt's breathing, and the quiet snores of her nose. Against my will and better judgment, against my wants and desires not to, I look at the girl. I look at her, Dezbe.

Her Pip-Boy, I recognize them from the vault ads and whatnot, substitutes as a pillow. Although I can't imagine metal to be that comfortable, she seems it. Her legs are bent inwards at the knees, just slightly, as she lays with her torso facing upwards, and her face on the side. It looks like quite the uncomfortable position, but she seems at ease with it. I notice, she did not remove her shoes. This bothers me, and I can't figure why. Looking at her face, her mouth that looks like a plump line, I feel something. Her eyes are closed, and I never realized just how long her eyelashes are. She breathes softly, her small, button-nose reminds me of a child's. As if her entire face skipped out on puberty. She has a round chin, with an oval-shaped face. I find myself analyzing her. I do not like it.

Her body is long, and lanky. She is taller than most average females, possibly because she was able to grow inside of a vault. My employer de-briefed me on her before her arrival. I am around the height of six feet, four or five inches. This girl comes up to my shoulders, making her the same height as Gob. Unusual, since women out here do not grow very tall. But like I said, I suspect her growing up in the vault and having access to clean water and other such nutrients helped that.

She is also slim, but curved. It is odd to see such a skinny, perhaps petite, woman with any form of curving. But this girl, she has them. An almost nearly perfect representation of the typical 'hourglass' figure, only more realistic. Her hips show that she can bear a child, while her thighs show she is a strong runner. I suspect those aspects come from living out here. I can not imagine the vaults having the best exercising equipment.

Yet as I look at her, examining her body, and picking out points of weakness for future references, I feel that strange feeling. One of…perhaps familiarity? As if, perhaps some how, I have encountered her before. But I know that is foolish. I would have remembered someone such as she. Not because she is by any means memorable, but because she is so…abrasive. For now, I will simply shrug it off. I am keeping her company far too long, and although I cannot complain to my employer about it, I do not have to enjoy it.


	52. I Brought A Reminder

As the days pass by, my employer buries himself so far into his plans. They do not inform me, as to what exactly they are doing. I am unsure as to why this is, but I do not pry. I asked my employer once, what made his so distraught, and he promptly flung a paper weight at my head. I have not made effort to ask now, when I enter his office three times a day to give him the updates of the girl.

Each day is different. There are moments when I will see my employer, and he will be bright and welcoming. There are other moments, where he will be angry, fuming, screaming at something or someone. The Outcasts have been growing very edgy, as well. I have noticed this. They seem to walk on eggshells, looking over their shoulders at every chance they get. They seem even edgier, when the girl requests to be brought out of her room, which surprisingly is not very often.

I had suspected that in due time, this girl would grow reckless and begin to 'act out' or even try to escape. She has done nothing of the sorts. It is quite confusing to me, because she seems to simply be accepting her fate, and trying to stay out of everyone's way. When I do take her from her room, she walks with her head down, focused on the floor. The Outcasts at first, were quite worried until Casdin rallied all of them for a meeting. Since then, they do not seem _as_ concerned as they once were, but still keep their guards up. I do, however, sense a change recently. A shift in the energies of the people who inhabit this fort. They're expecting something, and I am not sure if I should be concerned with this.

One of the main things that has changed with this girl, I have began calling her by name now, Dez, is that she stopped telling me stories. After her second night here, she simply has stopped talking of her life, of our supposed encounters, of anything, really. When she does choose to speak, it is off-handed questions that often times I do not know the answers to. She asks of people like J.T and Anne Marie. Once in a while, she will ask of McGraw, Casdin, or Rococo. Sometimes I answer her, other times I cannot, because I do not know what to say. Each time I answer her, regardless of what it is, she nods her head and continues scribbling in a notebook.

That's another thing. One day she requested a notebook and a pencil. When I asked Casdin if this would be alright with him, he said he did not see the harm. Dez will sit, for hours, scribbling or writing, sometimes asking me questions. It makes the days quieter, but longer. I do enjoy the silence, because it gives me time to think of things that I like, but I also wish that once in a while she would share something with me. True or not, her tales of our 'encounters' keep me amused.

The other day, upon her request and my employer's permission, I took her on a walk around the fort. She claimed she had been here before, and that she knew the grounds fairly well, but wanted to see it all again. When I asked why, she simply told me that she wanted fresh air. Of course, if she had said something suspicious, I would be required to inform my employer. Those are my standing orders. He does not wish for her to plan anything, or to be able to find an escape. I wish to tell him that, this girl does not seem to wish to escape. On the day I took her around the fort, allowing her to enter rooms and glance them over, she walked close to me. If she had tried to run that day, she would be no more than a finger's brush away. She kept pace with mine, and kept her head down. I saw no harm in taking her down into the basement, and all the way up to the rooftops, and around the grounds. She had proved to me she would not attack, nor try to flee. Her mutt was even allowed to come.

When we returned to her room after she took a box of Sugar Bombs from the cafeteria, she simply sat down at her desk and began writing and scribbling. She is not allowed to have her own cigarettes, so rather, I provide them for her. I do not know why, but I have come to bring her a handful or less a day. When I go to inform my employer each morning, I request some. He does not ask who they are for, and I suspect he believes they are for me. I feel as if I am doing something wrong, by not outwardly telling him they are for Dez. Yet somehow, I find I am not compelled to tell him who they are for. The smile she gives me each morning when I return and she wakes, seeing the small pile of cigarettes on her desk, makes me feel odd and strange inside. I do not know how to describe it, and thinking of it annoys me. I simply ignore it, and here and there continue to do nice things for her. I am unsure as to why I feel driven to, but I do. Perhaps she is beginning to grow on me.

As of right now, I am on my way back from my employer's office. He has asked me if there have been any changes in Dez's behavior. I told him there was not, and he nodded. Tonight, though, was a very different meeting. Usually I simply go in, he asks some questions, and I am able to return to my duties. Tonight, he asked me of my training. He asked of my past, and he asked if I would be willing to help him in his cause. I answered that he is my employer and I will do as he commands. To this, he nodded, and said he would speak with me further about it as the week progressed. I was then dismissed.

Coming to the door of Dez's holding room, I open it. As usual, she is busily writing and scribbling in her notebook. The click of the door closing causes her to look up at me. Her dog, does the same. I nod, acknowledging her. With her pencil to her lips, she sighs, shaking her head.

"I've been here a while."

She states, and I nod.

"Two weeks, I presume."

"Hm. Yeah. Been too long."

"What do you mean?"

I begin to suspect she is up to something. Lately, Dez and I have come to a form of mutual understanding. She is allowed to say certain things that I know the meaning of, but do not necessarily have to report to my employer. I, will not tell my employer so long as she does not make my job any harder. We came to this agreement one night, after she awoke in a cold sweat from a dream. She had looked directly at me, into my eyes. It did not intimidate or frighten me, but rather…I am not sure. She told me that she was attacked, and I had saved her. Whatever she meant by telling me that, I do not know, but I felt a change that night. I can't describe the change through words, it is something unspoken between us.

"Just that it's been too long, and I'm getting lazy."

"Lazy with what?"

"Things I need to do. That's all."

Perhaps she is speaking of things she must return to outside of this fort. I wish to tell her that she should forget thinking she will ever be released, because my employer shows no signs of letting her free.

"Hey, I got something for you, Charon."

Something for me? Everything she has acquired here, the notebook, pencil, matches, have all been through me. I cannot imagine she has something else, or where she would get it from. Instead of asking, I watch. I watch as her hands reach up and behind her neck, fumbling with something I can't see. I hear a small 'click' and she removes a sort of necklace from her body. Wrapping it in her hands before I am able to get a closer look, I watch as she places it on the table.

"These are for you. You can have them back now."

Expressionless, I stare at her, not the necklace on the table. I have no use for such meaningless things. Like jewelry. It would simply get in the way. But…did she say I could have it _back_? If she did, it would mean she is implying that I would have given it to her. Impossible. Shaking my head in annoyance at her, I walk over, snatching the necklace up from the table.

"What is this?"

I growl at her, at my breaking point with her accusations that we have met. I could very well kill her with a few well-aimed hits, and it would be the end. Opening my palm, I quickly disperse that thought. I stare at the necklace that intertwines with my finger. My name, blood type, and serial number stare back at me, my reflection behind them, mocking me.

"How…did you get these?"

My voice cracks with anger. I have never felt the need for emotions such as this one. The most I ever remember feeling is great annoyance, actually. But this, this incites me. How could she _possibly_ get her hands on something like this? I hadn't even noticed it was missing. I just assumed that…it has been there, as it has been all these years. Around my neck, where I have always kept it.

"You gave it to me."

She says, closing her notebook and not looking at me. In a flood of anger, I punch the top of her desk. She is startled by this, and jumps.

"_Stop_ lying! Tell me the _truth_!"

Dez looks at me, her eyes big, but she shows no signs of fear.

"I did. You gave them to me. You said you wanted them back when I was leaving Tenpenny Tower to see Three Dog. It was to make sure I came back to you. Not my fault you can't remember because you're a dumbshit."

I can no longer restrain myself. For two weeks, I have put up with her insatiable attitude. I have had enough. Grabbing her upper arms, I lift her from her chair and shake her.

"_Stop lying to me!"_

I hiss, shaking her as one would shake a rattle. My hands grip her arms tightly, I am sure they will leave marks. It does not matter to me. I am so enraged and infuriated by her. How _dare_ she take something so…so valuable to me? It is the only possession I have aside from my armor and gun, and the only one that is irreplaceable.

"I _told_ you the truth!"

She tells me through gritted teeth when I cease my shaking. Her answer only enrages me more, and I shake her again, tossing her against the wall as my hands slide from her arms. I feel no remorse, as she hits the wall, her head connecting with it, and as she slides down it slowly, her body laying in a pile on the floor. I feel nothing, nothing but sheer anger and rage as I feel my precious dog-tags around my fingers. At first, I believe she is dead. Her body does not move, and I find I do not care if she is alive or not. I am just glad to be rid of her constant presence.

Glancing down, I look at my dog-tags. They are still as new as the day I had received them. A badge of honor, as I have always seen them. They permitted me to leave the grounds, the group, leave my trainers that I grew to hate and distrust. Although most of my employers have not been much better, I felt grateful to be given these and my contract, and to be sent away. I was away from the people who had caused me such pain, when I would not accomplish a task. Away from the people who had beat me, tortured me, saved my life only to put me near death once again. My employers, they could do me no harm. When I failed, they could scold me and give me a feeling of shame and guilt, but that is nothing compared to the tortures my trainers gave me. Nothing. If my employer dared lay a hand on me, they were quickly taken care of. This new contract may not hold the same rules, but it is not a concern for me. My employer does not seem like the type to cause me harm.

But when I was given these dog tags, I was free. They were my ticket, to shackled freedom from the constraints of the training grounds where I grew up. Although now they serve as mere sentimental trinkets, I still wish to keep them as close to me as I possibly can. Knowing this girl has somehow taken them from me…I cannot even stand the thought of it.

Oh, the girl. Dez. I glance over at her, her body still limp. For a moment, just a passing moment, I feel a bit worried she may be seriously injured. Before I walk over to her, I place the dog-tags around my neck once more. I tuck them beneath the shirt I wear under my armor. I must know they are safe, before I touch this wretched woman.

"Get up."

I say, still angry from just minutes ago. Grabbing her by the back of her neck, I forcefully lift her to the air. I am strong, lifting her is like lifting a sack of flour. I hold her in front of me, her body limp in the air. If she is dead, it might anger my employer. The thought that she has caused me more trouble than she is worth, makes me want to shake her once more, but I hold back. Rather, I prop her against myself, as I sit down on the cold floor. Once I do so, I examine her features, her limp body in my arms.

Blood gently seeps and dries from the corner of her mouth. Her eyes are closed, her heart is beating and she is breathing. Feeling the back of her head, my fingers graze a becoming bump. She is merely unconscious.

"Wake up."

I grumble, lightly tapping her cheeks. Beneath her eyelids, her eyes roll around. She is coming to. I continue to pat her face, until she opens her eyes. They roll around in her head, similar to what a newborn does when they open their eyes. Constant movement with no ability to focus. I grumble at her, a guttural growl escaping my throat. She moans in response, as my fingers press the bump on her head.

"…Ahhgg…"

She makes a strange noise. I move my hand from her head, and it falls back. She's not conscious enough to support her own weight.

"Charon…"

The way she says my name is slurred, as her tongue and mouth and lips move in an unappealing way.

"What?"

I snarl at her, displeased that she has not yet regained herself.

"…Nar…N…Don't…nnn…leave...ughh…"

Don't leave? Is that what she is saying? Before I can figure what she means by this, her hand flies up and nearly smacks me in the face. In fact, it does, but not hard enough to hurt. Her eyes still roll, as she grips around. I have…never felt the touch of a human's hands against my ghoul skin. Her hand is…is soft…and warm. She finds my left cheek, her fingers begin to gently graze the skin that still remains.

"What are you doing?"

I demand, as her breathing becomes rapid, and her eyes roll back and around inside of her sockets. With her body resting in my arms, and her hand gently grazing my skin, I all of a sudden feel so…so protective of this female. My arms mechanically bring her closer to me, like a mother protecting a child. Inside of my chest, my heart races for unknown reasons. I begin to panic. I have…I have never panicked before.

"Hey, hey Dez, are you alright?"

I have called her by name. I have never done so, simply answering her questions. I do so now, for…for reasons unbeknownst to me.

"…ugh…"

She grumbles, and I gently stroke the hair from her face. Her skin, beneath my gloved and ruined hands, feels…feels nice.

"Can you move?"

My tone with her now is gentle. I speak softly, and I fear someone may come through that door. No one aside from me ever has, but that could change.

"You are fine."

I tell her, feeling rushed. Quickly, I stand with her in my arms, and look at the bed.

"Move it, dog."

I say, and the dog jumps from the bed. I place Dez on it, her hand slides from my face, but she continues to try and feel for me. To reach for me.

"Sh…Sh…Charon…"

She says, before her arms fall and she slips into a deep, comatose slumber. I check her pulse, her breathing, her heart. All is normal. I turn her head in her sleep, and she does not wake in pain. She has simply received a hard blow to the head, a concussion at the worse. I am sure in the morning, she will wake with a bad headache and nothing more. For now, I need to do something.

I have never done this before. Never, have I ever even thought of it. But now, I find myself, pacing down the hall, towards my employer's office. I must speak with him. I must. I have to know what caused those protective and sympathetic feelings towards that girl. For some reason, I feel he has the answer. I feel he knows something of this girl, that he is not telling me. I have killed many people, mercilessly, for my entire life. Men, women, children, it is all the same to me. I was not trained to take pity, not trained to sympathize with those I caused harm to. But with that girl, with her, I felt it. I felt anger at myself, I felt sad she was hurt, and I felt so protective of her. I feared someone would walk in, and catch me. As if I was committing a sin that Lucifer himself would cringe at.

I do not hesitate opening my employer's door. I am running on sheer adrenaline now, sheer…

"Charon? What are you doing in here? Is something wrong?"

My employer says as I burst in the room. He is speaking with an Outcast, J.T, and they look at me.

"I must speak with you."

"Where is the girl?"

"In her room, sleeping. It is important and urgent."

Casdin nods, understanding. Thankfully, he sends out J.T and for that, I could not be more relieved. I do not wish to speak of something like this, in front of another.

"What is it?"

He asks, as J.T closes the door and walks away. My employer stands in front of me, worry on his face. He worries not about me, but about the situation. He believes something has gone wrong, gone rogue.

"I have some questions."

"Is that all? Charon you barge in here in the middle of the night for _questions_?"

"They pertain to the girl and are quite important."

My employer sighs in annoyance. He waves his hand at me, signaling me that it is alright to ask.

"The girl gave me something tonight. Something that she would only have been able to receive if I myself gave it to her."

"Oh?"

"We had a disagreement over this. I expressed my anger in her lying and saying she has met and encountered me before. Physical violence followed that. I harmed her, and when I did so and my anger dispersed, I felt…sir I felt compassion and sympathy for her. I wish to know why."

"Why what?"

"Why I felt this way. I wish to also know how she was able to get my possession."

Casdin sighs, shaking his head. He begins to pace, as if he is trying to figure out the correct wording for something. Impatiently, I wait. This girl, for two weeks, has been offhandedly referring to me. She has been speaking of me aloud in her sleep, tells me stories of our 'adventures' and now hands me my very own dog-tags. I will not lie, I have tried in the wee hours of the morning to remember and visualize these tales she has told me. But I cannot. I had thought that perhaps I received something, a hard knock to the brain, that caused me to forget. I know now that is a foolish assumption. Yet I can no longer simply go on thinking we have not met. The dog-tags prove something to me. I am not quite sure what yet, but they do.

"Charon, you are beginning to believe her lies. Her continues tales are beginning to brainwash you, I believe."

"Sir, she gave me a possession that was once mine. The only way she would have been able to take it from me, is if I had given it to her."

"Do you sleep when you're there?"

"For moments, yes."

"Do you not think this girl could have simply gotten up and taken this possession from you while you were sleeping?"

"I am afraid not, sir. I do not mean to disagree, but I would have awoken at the slightest sound. I always do."

My employer gets annoyed. He looks at me, with a mixture of emotions I cannot describe. I can tell, however, that he is not pleased with me.

"Charon, due to you insubordination, I hereby order—"

Before he can finish giving me his order, something stops him. Something, something stops me. Down the hall, the last door on the left, comes a blood curdling scream.

"_Charon_!"

It freezes me up, as it echoes down the hall. My employer looks at me, I can read the expression on his face. There is not time for him to argue, my body and my mind are no longer the same being. I find myself pulling the door from the hinges almost, as I rush to get out of his office. I collide with an Outcast, I do not know whom, as I exit. I do not stop, I go, as if I am driven by something unknown. The dark parts of my mind are pushing my body towards this, towards this girl who…who shouted my name in the dark of night. Who touched my face without cringing. Who I felt so protective of, just moments before. I do not know what pushes me to do this, I have never done such an act. Never blindly disobeyed an order, even though I was not able to hear it.

When I come to the room, the door is open. I had forgotten to lock it in my hurry. My body freezes up, at the sight in front of me. Rococo is atop a limp Dez. Her eyes, they roll as they did moments before, but they stop on me. Rococo is still clad in his armor, but his hands are wandering in places I am sure he is not allowed to go. When her eyes meet mine, I can not describe what happens. As if I am someone else, someone I do not know, I rush into the room.

Nothing stops me, there are no strings or constraints of my contract. My employer's opinion or consequences I may receive mean nothing, as I tear Rococo from her. As I raise my hand above his head, and bring it down as hard as I can, there is nothing stopping me. I have never felt this type of anger before. Never, felt this kind of protective feeling. As if I am a Yao Guai protecting their cub. Her face, the way she looked at me, reflects in my mind like a broken holotape, as I mercilessly hit Rococo

"Charon!"

My employer's voice echoes in my mind. I cease my actions, instantly, as if someone has come inside of my mind, and pulled the reins on it. I look at Rococo for the first time. I can not recognize him.


	53. Breathe

_I would like to give a big, giant Thank You to Vault108. For some reason, whenever I feel like not writing this story anymore, I open my e-mail to see that they have posted new reviews. It always makes me smile and brightens my day and makes me want to finish this story. I'm glad still that there are people who love Dez just as much as I do. So, I plan on finishing this story, but I'm not sure when or how long it will take. But trust me, it won't be long in between updates. Thank you again, Vault108. I feel I am talking to a mysterious ghost person.

* * *

_

(Dez)

They took him away from me. Three nights ago, we got into another fight. I didn't do anything, so I don't know why he got so fucking mad. I guess the only reason I can figure is seeing those dog-tags triggered something in his mind. I knocked my head pretty bad, and was pretty disoriented. But I heard him. I heard how his voice changed, felt how he held me close. Like he was protecting me from forces unknown. I liked it. I didn't want him to let me go. For a minute, I felt like I had him back.

He left so fast, I didn't realize he'd gone until J.T was on top of me. His dirty hands and dirtier mouth, trying to kiss me. My mind woke up, woke me up from the deepest sleep I've ever been in. I did what I would usually do in a situation like that. What I've always done, when I was helpless, angry, alone. I called for Charon. I only had enough energy to call him once, but, that was all it took.

When he ripped J.T off, for those few short seconds that felt like hours, I felt like he was back. Like the Charon I knew and loved came back to me. It was a small hope, a distant hope, and a hope soon crushed. Casdin came to the door, and called his name. He stopped just as quickly as he began. J.T had to be taken out on a stretcher by two masked Outcasts. Charon was taken away by Casdin. I haven't seen him since.

It's just been Dogmeat and I, for three nights. I miss Charon. I'm worried about him. No one comes to my door, an Outcast stands outside of it to make sure I don't go anywhere. I haven't even heard his voice. But I assure myself, all is not lost. Because for the past two weeks, I've been secretly gathering information. As much as I can. I've been asking Charon about the different Outcasts. He tells me what he can, since my questions are seemingly harmless. I write everything down. So far, I've figured this out.

The base is the same as it was five years ago. Nothing has been changed or updated, and it's mainly because the Outcasts do not have access or means to gain new technology. The Citadel was blown up, ceasing their attempt and putting a pause on their mission. Anne Marie is still a doctor, and the leading scientist in Fort Independence. There isn't much else about the others. In the basement, are four large vats filled with radiation. The vats tower over Charon, and are filled with a radiation I can _feel_ just by going down the stairs to the basement. It's much stronger than anything else out here. Casdin has a plan. I know this because he has me here, he has Charon under his employment, and he was having him watch me. I figure him having Charon watching me, was just a test to see if he was still loyal to whomever holds his contract. In the end, Casdin won.

But I can't figure what he wants to do with these vats, with keeping me here. Personally, I don't give two flying fucks about Casdin anymore. I don't care about the world or the Outcasts. I did my part. All I want to do now, is get Charon and get out. Kind of hard to do that, though, when you're stuck in this room all the time. Let's not forget though, I am still Dezbe. I still have some tricks up my sleeve.

"Dogmeat?"

I whisper. Since we got here, the first night, I told Dogmeat to stay put. He hasn't attacked anyone, although I'm sure when J.T barged in here he wanted to. I think Dogmeat is smarter than your average dog. He just knows things. Coming over to me, Dogmeat's tongue hangs out of his mouth. He looks at me, and I know he knows.

"I need you to do something for me, boy."

He whimpers and presses his nose into my hand. I pat him on the head, smiling a bit.

"Wait for my command, okay boy?"

He whimpers again, and I stand up from the chair at my desk. Walking over to the door, I pound on it, as hard as I can.

"Hey! Hey!"

I shout, pounding on the door harder and harder. Finally, I hear the familiar click of the lock as the Outcast outside opens it.

"What do you want?"

Shoving my foot in the door, I lean in really close.

"I have to go to the bathroom."

"Wait till morning."

"I'll piss myself."

Even though the Outcast wears his helmet, I can tell he doesn't want that. He sighs, and opens the door a bit wider. I've learnt he _hates_ bringing me to the bathroom. Be it for business or showers, I bet he feels it's beneath him n the whole 'job-scale' thing. But right now, I don't give a fuck.

"Alright, come on, make it quick."

When he opens the door a bit more, I take my chance. The position he's in gives me leverage. I'm able to hit the door with my shoulder, tossing it open, and knocking him off balance. His heavy armor throws him off, and he begins to shout. I know it's late, and people are sleeping, but I take my chances.

"Get him, Dogmeat!"

I yell, as I run down the hall. Not a second goes by after my order, do I hear Dogmeat's vicious growling and snapping, and the cries of the Outcast slowly fading away. I know what I'm doing. I know what Casdin will do. Without stopping as I pass his office, where I know Charon hides, where he's keeping him, I pound loudly on the door. It takes two seconds for me to hit it and keep running. I just want to wake Charon, or Casdin. It doesn't matter whom.

The front doors are in front of me. I can make a clean getaway, and Dogmeat will be following soon, but I don't. Instead, I take a sharp left, almost tripping as I rush up the stairs. Five years ago, I found the way to the roof. Knowing Fort Independence is the same as it was back then, I'm able to navigate my way around the sleeping quarters, around Anne Marie's office, and make my way quietly up to the stairs that will take me to the roof. It's a crazy plan, but it's one of those plans so crazy, it'd be impossible _not_ to work.

When I make it to the roof, for the first time in two weeks, and three days, I feel the cool breeze of a chilled desert night. It brushes against my skin, tickles my insides, and makes my hair stand on end. I stop running. I slow, catching my breath, and look up at the stars. They twinkle in the sky, like a tiny billion eyes, watching me from somewhere far, far away. I missed this. Missed seeing the night sky, with the silvery wisps of clouds floating around, with the moon shining bright and big.

Walking over to the edge of the building, I sit and wait. Soon, they'll come for me. I'll be able to see Charon, then. Why am I so sure? Because Casdin knows me. He knows me from five years ago, and knows his Outcasts will have no match against me. Even with their armor and weapons, I can simply jump, and he wants me alive. What for, I haven't figured out. But he does. He'll send Charon up here, knowing that there's a soft spot for him. I'll be able to talk to him then. I don't know what Casdin's done to him, what he's been ordered to do to me. For all I know, Charon could come up here and blow my brains sky-high. But at least I'll be able to see him. At least then, I'll be able to…to touch him one last time.

Patiently, I wait. I sit with my legs dangling over the edge of the building. I'll surely die if I fall or jump. It doesn't bother me. If anyone aside from Charon comes, I know I'll have to. Jump, I mean. Hopefully it won't come to that. I'm hoping my assumptions are right about Casdin, and that he'll send Charon up thinking it'll keep me calm. But you know what they say about assuming. It makes an ass out of you and me.

Pretty soon, I hear the noise of the door behind me opening. I hesitate, before I turn around. Looking up at the starry sky above my head, I think of a time long gone. Where Charon and I would be somewhere out in these barren wastes, looking for something, chasing something. A small fire would be between us, as we sat as far away from one another as we could. Looking back on those moments, I smile. I smile, because it seems like those memories, helped make up who we both are. Or…who Charon was. I hope…I hope it all comes back to him…soon.

The sound of a familiar gun cocking makes a smirk spread on my face. I hear heavy footsteps, as I straighten my back. The wind blows, and I feel the cool metal of a gun barrel being placed on the back of my head.

"Hey there, Charon."

I say without turning around. I wish I had a cigarette right now, but Charon hasn't been around to bring me one. A part that plays into my need to get the hell out of that room.

"My orders are to return you to you room. If you do not comply, I am to kill you."

His voice is thick, monotone. I don't know what Casdin has done and said, but I hope, I hope that it's reversible. Standing up, I turn to face Charon. His gun is raised to me, and I smile at him.

"What are you smiling about?"

He demands, his posture unmoving, his stance intimidating.

"We first met like this. In the Ninth Circle, six years ago. You were ordered to kill me then, too."

"That is a blatant lie."

"Why?"

"I would never disobey an order. If I was ordered to kill you, I would have. Are you moving or do I need to squeeze the trigger?"

I rub my arm, nervous a bit, I think. I still smile at him, a half-smile, but a smile.

"You…you disobeyed Ahzrukhal. You told me later that…that you just couldn't kill me."

"Stop lying."

"I…I'm not."

Charon's eyes narrow from behind the view of his gun. The barrel is aimed at my head, and gently, I take it in my hand. I move it down, to my chest, right over my heart.

"If you're going to kill me, at least make it so I can be buried in one piece."

"I am only squeezing if you do not comply."

I don't think for one second, he won't pull the trigger. I'm not taking that much faith in this leap. The wind blows my hair around, and I feel tears welling up in my eyes. When I was little, I always thought about how my life would play out. About what I'd be. I never expected this. Never expected being at the bad end of a gun, held by the only person in the world I've ever loved. It's cold out, and I shudder.

"You promised you'd never leave me. You…you used to…stay with me, and keep me warm on nights like this."

"Your words mean nothing to me, and my patience is wearing thin."

"It's okay, Charon. It's okay, to feel scared."

"I am not."

"I know what it feels like. To change. To…to fall back into old habits."

"This is not a habit. It is my life."

I see a shooting star behind his head, and in my mind, I make a wish.

"Charon, please listen to me."

"Are you coming?"

"If you wanted to shoot me, you would have by now."

I tell him, calmly, softly. I know this is a long shot. I know that I have no chance, but I want to try. If I die here tonight, it won't be in vain. At least, I'll die knowing I tried. A shot from his gun will kill me, there's no chance of survival.

"…Then you are not coming, and it leaves me no choice."

"You have a choice. You've _always_ had a choice. For six years, six and a half, you've…you've had choices."

"I am choosing to do this, since you are not complying."

"…I love you, Charon. I always have."

And then, and then it just all…goes away.


	54. Save Me

Pain shoots through my body. I've been in this situation enough times before, to know I'm not dead. But…if I'm not dead, then where am I? Opening my eyes, I look around at the familiar walls of the room Casdin confined me to.

"Dogmeat?"

I whisper, trying to sit up. It brings me unimaginable pain, but I do so anyways. A whimper at my feet, tells me he's safe, he's alive. I smile a bit, holding my chest as I prop myself up against the single pillow I'm allowed. I guess Casdin thinks I could use more than one as a weapon. Don't judge, I probably could.

"Hey…Dogmeat."

I say, reaching up and patting his head. It hurts to move my arms. I can't figure why. Looking down, I see that I'm tightly wrapped in gauze. It presses down on me annoyingly tight, and constricts my breathing. I see the formation of a large bruise coming up from under them, stretching to my collarbone. Hm. Charon made a choice. Bastard. My best guess, is he just hit me really good with the butt of his gun. By the feelings of it, I think he might have cracked or broken a couple of ribs. The Outcasts know of my dirty little secret about radiation, and I guess they just don't want me running around at full health. Fair enough.

"You are awake."

The familiar sound of Charon's voice causes me to jump. Which in turn, makes me cry out in pain. Clutching my chest, I wince and look down. Yeah, a few broken, I'd say.

"You should not try to sit up."

He says, as he walks over to me. I look at him, through slanted eyes. He didn't kill me. That's how many times now? I've lost count. He wraps his hands around my shoulders and presses me back into the bed. I listen to him, and lie down. Dogmeat moves over, allowing him to sit on my bed. He takes his head in his hands, and rests his elbows on his thighs.

"You didn't kill me."

I tell him, stating the obvious. It does start conversation, though.

"No. I did not."

"Why? Those were your orders."

Charon looks around the room. He doesn't look at me, and his fingertips rest on his chin and mouth. Pain shoots through me with each deep breath I take, and try to sit up again. He feels the movement of my legs, but still doesn't look at me. Whatever's going on in his head, I'm not sure how I feel about it.

"I am not supposed to be in here. Gather your belongings, and dress quickly."

"What?"

Charon doesn't reply. He simply stands up, and gently tosses me my top. I hold it in my hands, unsure of what he's getting at. Dogmeat looks at me, and nudges my leg with his nose. Two against one, I guess I have to listen. My top won't fit right over my bandages, and the extra-tightness makes the pain worse, but it's bearable. After all, this is minor compared to some of my other injuries.

When I get my shirt on, I look at Charon. He hands me my notebook, and a small pistol. I don't bother to ask where he got it from, I simply take it. I want to say the Charon I once knew is back. That he's returned and now we're going to blow this place to holy hell just like we have twice before…but…I can't. The man in front of me isn't Charon, the one I knew, the one I loved. He's only that person in body, not in mind. I don't yet trust him fully, but I have no other option. Whatever reasoning he had for sparing my life now, won't be granted again.

"Come on."

He says, pacing, walking over to the door. Suspiciously, but loyally, I follow him.

"Everyone is asleep. We must hurry. Do not stop until I say so."

"Charon, what's going on?"

"Let's go now."

He opens the door to my room, and grabs my wrist tightly. I feel his muscles rubbing against my own, and I smile at it. I've missed his touch, more than I've ever missed anything else before. I've missed how powerful his grip feels, when he's dealing with me. How safe I feel, when it's us against the world, and his arms are the only things keeping the devil away. For now, I can't think of that. I have to remind myself this isn't Charon, and I have to concentrate on whatever plan he's concocted. My heart says to hope, but my head says to move, and move fast.

Ignoring the pain inside my chest, both from ribs and loss, I move my feet as fast as I can, while Charon pulls me. Dogmeat jogs beside me. At first, I'm wry that he's bringing me to Casdin, but when we pass his door, I start to wonder. Is he helping me escape? Why? He's under orders to watch me, not aid me. Moreover, he was under orders to kill me if I didn't cooperate. Not knock me silly and bring me back down. Charon, if you're not the person I once knew, then who are you? Who have you become? More importantly, do you still love me?

To my surprise, we in fact go through the main entrance. I expect to slow down, and do, but Charon pulls me to speed up. So I follow him. With his hand wrapped around my wrist, I really have no other choice. He's dragged me places before, he'll drag me now if he has to. The warm, but cool, night air feels peaceful in my face. The moon lights everything up. You only ever realize how much you miss something, when you're unable to see it. Stars shine above, the dirt shifts beneath my feet. For a minute, I lose myself in the sensations of being outside. I imagine Charon is who he once was, and we're running from an evil Deathclaw. When we get to safety, I pretend we'll hold one another close, by the warm heat of a dying fire, and kiss until the sun comes up.

But that silly daydream is interrupted when Charon stops. I stop, and Dogmeat stops, too. Looking around, I see Fort Independence off in the near distance. We've only run a few hundred yards, but it feels like miles. The pain in my chest is near unbearable, but I can take it. With the moon shining down, Fort Independence looks like something out of a pre-war horror movie. I don't like it. Not one bit.

"You need to leave."

Charon says, as his hand falls from my wrist. Instinctively, I reach for it again, but I pull back once I remember who he is now.

"What? What do you mean? Tell me what's going on."

I demand, taking his shoulder and forcing him to face me. In the dead of night, as Charon turns his head away from my view, I can't help but wonder...who did this?

"You have to leave this place. I suggest you take advantage of this opportunity."

I fold my arms in front of my chest, the wind blows my hair in my face. I'm not going anywhere without him.

"Charon, tell me what is going on. Why didn't you kill me?"

I want to know, because I still believe he's in there somewhere. The Charon that saved me from myself the first night we spent together. The Charon who would mercilessly slaughter anyone who even looked at me the wrong way. The Charon who carried me to safety, and calmed the demons and voices in my head. The Charon…who held me close in the abandoned house, as we both felt at peace for the first time in our lives. He still doesn't look at me, his head turned so that I can only see his profile. His back is to the moon, and it covers his body in shadows.

"…I do not know. I do not know why I chose to even do this. It is against my orders, and I expect dire consequences in the morning. There is…something about you. Something that prevented me from killing you. To follow through with what I was ordered to do. I can not explain it."

"I'm not leaving without you."

He looks at me, for the first time since I woke up.

"Why?"

He asks, as if my statement is unexpected. I guess it is, because he doesn't remember me.

"I won't leave you here. Come with me. I'll help you remember. You've disobeyed this much, a mile more and you'll be free."

"I can not. You must leave the Capital Wasteland, Dez. Run, and do not look back."

The tone in his voice tells me he's not coming. There's no use in begging, but I want to try anyways.

"Charon, please. Please, come with me."

I tug on his arm, urging him to go while the window of opportunity is still open. Tears build in my eyes, as I know the truth. He pulls from my grip, looking away from me again.

"No."

"I'll come back for you."

He looks at me as if I've just told him I hung the moon.

"What?"

"I'll come back. I'll come back here, with better guns, with more people. I'm not leaving you in this place."

"If my employer orders me, I will have to tell him of this."

"Tell him whatever you want. I don't care if they're waiting with bows on. I'm _coming back_."

"Why?"

"Because I can't do this anymore without you. I don't care if you don't remember. _I_ do. _I_ remember. You never left me behind. You never gave up on me. You always came back. You always chased me, and stuck by me. I'm not letting that all be for nothing."

Charon doesn't say anything for a bit. I'm not sure what he's thinking of, he's not the easiest person to read. Tears fall from my eyes, and down my cheeks. I didn't want to cry, but saying goodbye to Charon, always makes me.

"Go. Go now."

He says, his voice deep and guttural.

"I'm coming back for you."

I tell him, and he nods. I'm not sure if he wants me to, or if he even cares, but _I_ don't care. I'm coming back. I am. I will. Without thinking, without realizing it, I wrap my arms around his neck, and painfully lift myself up to him. I kiss him. I press my lips against his, and I can taste him. I can taste him, and he tastes just the same as he always has.

"I'm coming back."

I whisper, as I pull away from his stiff body. He looks at me, his face, expressionless. The pain in my ribs doesn't matter. The warmth and comfort of the night doesn't mean anything to me. Nothing does, if Charon isn't here to share it with me. Dogmeat barks, and begins to growl in the direction of Fort Independence, and Charon lightly pushes me.

"_Go_!"

He hisses, and I nod, tears streaming down my face.

"I'm coming back."

I say again, as I begin to run. I don't look back to see if he watches me go. I don't look back, as I hear Dogmeat's feet catching up to me. I don't bother to look back, because I know I'll turn around. I know, I'll run back to him, to his arms, and beg him to let me stay. I don't care if I'm a prisoner for my entire life, so long as he's with me. I can take any blow, hit, abuse, anything…so long as he's there. It's been me against the world my entire life. When Charon came into it, it became us, against everyone who didn't agree. It became…something so much more important.


	55. TwentyFour Hours

"Wake up! Wake up!"

I'm standing outside of Roy's door, pounding on it like a madman. I don't care about the pain in my chest, about my broken ribs, about anything. All I care about now, is getting Charon back. Dogmeat barks at the door, trying to create more noise and ruckus.

"Roy! Roy open up!"

I scream again. By now, I'm sure I've woken the whole damn tower. But it's for a good cause. It's for a good reason. I only stop hitting the door when I hear someone's footsteps coming closer. I take my hands away, and catch my breath. I'm frazzled. I ran all the way here, from Fort Independence, and didn't stop for a rest once I got here, either. I just jogged right up to the elevator, and started this insane tantrum.

"What the _hell_ are you doing, smoothskin?"

Roy hisses, obviously tired and angry. He opens the door enough so I can see him, but not enough for me to see inside. I flail my arms in the air, all normalcy has been lost at this point. Shit, it doesn't bother me.

"We have to help Charon! Get dressed! We have to go _now_!"

I holler, pointing my fingers, waiving my arms, stomping around like Zack having a fit. I don't care. If it gets my point across, so be it.

"What? What the _fuck_ are you ranting about? Don't you know what time it is?"

"It's three in the morning now _come on_!"

"Slow down. Slow the fuck down and tell me what's going on."

Sighing, I stop my fit. I shake my head, annoyed that he just doesn't _listen_ to me. Running my fingers through my hair, I get on the right track.

"Charon is in trouble. The Outcasts drew up a new contract and are using him for some…some…I don't _know_. I've been stuck there because they wouldn't let me leave, and Charon helped me escape, and now I'm here and he needs our help."

Roy listens, and thinks over my short summary of the past two and a half weeks. I ball my hands into fists, closing and opening them, angry that he hasn't agreed to help me yet.

"What? If he helped you escape, why didn't he come with you?"

I can tell Roy is still thoroughly confused, but is trying to stay on my level.

"I don't _know_. He' bound to Henry Casdin. That's the leader of the Outcasts. They're cooking up some…some plan for I don't know what. But Roy, I can't do this alone. I need your help. Charon needs your help."

"Whatever trouble he's in he can handle it himself."

What? Excuse me? Did he just say what I think he said? Oh no, he fucking didn't. Madder than I've been in a long time, I kick Roy's front door wide open. Sure, my ribs scream in agonizing pain, and I probably hurt one or all of my toes, but I'm not really giving a shit.

"God_damnit_ Roy! Charon needs your _help_! If you're not going to help him then _I _will do it on my fucking own! If it wasn't for Charon _you_ wouldn't be in this fucking place!"

I scream like a madwoman, and maybe I am. But I don't care. I'm so mad at Roy for being so damn inconsiderate. How _dare_ he! Charon was the one who helped him get in this building. Charon was the one who protected it alongside him and kept it safe for _five years_. Charon was the one who got the living citizens out of Underworld and here to safety. Now, when _he_ needs help, no one is going to do it. Bullshit. Fucking bullshit.

"I'm not responsible for his actions. I helped him once with you at Point Lookout and it got me nowhere good."

Roy says, cocky and calm. I want to punch him in the face right now, but honestly, without Charon here, there's nothing stopping him from blowing my brains out. And I know he wants to.

"He never hesitated to help you."

I say, through angry gritted teeth as I clench my jaw. We stare one another down. If he won't help me, chances are not many others here will. Not because they won't want to, but because they've never really left the safety and comfort of this place. Without Roy's leadership, I won't have the power I need to get into that base.

"She's right, Roy."

Bessie Lynn appears behind him, and we both look at her. Finally, a voice of reason. I know Roy likes to be a badass, but when it comes to Bessie Lynn, he's pretty all for it. She wears the pants in their relationship, you can tell by the way he follows her around and the way she smiles at him.

"Bessie, go to bed."

"No, Roy. Dez is right. Didn't you hear the broadcast she made? Charon never hesitated to help you out, and now you need to return the favor."

"Charon helped me for his own personal gain."

"But he helped you, Roy. And now he needs you."

Roy sighs, I can tell he's angry, but he's defeated. Against his will, he nods.

"In the morning, I will inform Michael and Quinn. We are the only three capable of helping you. We will make a plan, and follow through with it in a few day's time."

"We don't _have_ a few days!"

I say, angry again. Roy holds up his hand, signaling to me to shut the fuck up.

"We do this on my terms, girl. If you just got back there, then they're expecting you back tonight. We need to work with the element of surprise in order for this to work. Now, do you want my help or not?"

"Yes."

"Alright then. Charon's apartment is empty. Rest there. Tulip should have some decent guns in stock, and we'll check when we begin to plan. _Tomorrow_."

I know I'm supposed to be focused on helping Charon, but something a bit different creeps into my mind.

"Wait, empty? Where's Lily."

I ask. Charon didn't mention this. Of course, he wouldn't have been able to. Duh.

"Lily was sent to Megaton about a month back. Charon sent her there…shit I don't know why but I'm suspecting because of you. Now _go to bed_ before I change my mind."

Before I can protest or ask anything more, Roy slams the door in my face. I make a mental note to thank Bessie Lynn in the morning. I should go to bed. Go to Charon's apartment and rest. But I can't. I stand, staring at Roy's door, like some drunken fool. No. No we have to go tonight. There's no time. There is nothing. But…I know when someone's made up their mind. If I…if I go back now, it'll be sheer suicide, and what would that help? Charon would still be there, and I'd be dead. No one would help him then.

Somehow, I pull myself away from Roy's door. Sullenly, I walk across the foyer and into Charon's apartment. It's empty, as I stand in the doorway. The balcony door is open, bed sheets are askew. Remnants of Lily lie scattered around the floor. A broken toy. A one-eyed teddy bear. A pre-war dress. The shelves on the bookshelf are empty. They hold no possessions, no weapons, no nothing. The small radio is in the corner, the bed being the only prominent thing. The moon shines through the open door, a stream of silver flowing in. Everything else is encased in a dark shadow. I feels vacant. It feels unused. Dogmeat invites himself in, but it does nothing to encourage me to move. I feel if I do, if I step inside and fall into that bed, then tomorrow won't come. Then, then there'll be no hope. He'll be gone, hurt, or worse, and I'll never see him again.

Sniffing away the tears that returned, I shake my head. I could go down and see Gob. Could go and wake him up, make him force all this away. But I can't. Gob…Gob can't always make everything better. There are some things, that I have to do alone. That I prefer to do alone. Forever ago, Charon and I shared a night together in this room. He kissed me, held me close, as our bodies intertwined. During that time, where I didn't have my memory, he reminded me that it was okay. That although the days and months were passing, it was all okay. Thinking of him alone, in the fort, bothers me. Wait until tomorrow or the next day? How? How can I sleep knowing all of this is going on? For all I know, Casdin could have shot and killed Charon by now.

No, no I won't think of that. No, not now. I can't. I have to do something. I have to…I have to…

"Kid?"

I jump in the air. Gob's voice behind me scared the willies out of me. Shit I'm not sure what willies are, but they're scared out of me. Seeing his familiar face, brings a sort of smile to my lips. I turn around to face him, and before I can even speak, he has me in his arms, hugging me tightly.

"I was so worried about you, kid."

He says to me, as I wrap my arms around his squishy body. He's not like Charon. Charon is fit, and well-formed. Gob feels like hugging a bag of jelly. It's alright, though. I need someone right now. I need anybody. I need Charon.

"I'm alright, Gob."

I tell him, whispering, afraid that I might wake Roy and Bessie again. I don't want to deal with that right now. In the doorway of Charon's apartment, I'm just happy to see a familiar face, and be welcomed home.

"Where's Charon? Did he come back with you?"

Gob asks as he pulls away from me. He sees the look in my eyes before I'm able to muster the courage to speak. Out of comfort, he rubs my cheek.

"…Charon's in trouble…"

I mutter, tears forming again. Gob pulls me into him, stroking the back of my head. I think him being a parent kind of helped his comforting skills.

"It's alright."

"Roy won't help me till tomorrow. He might be…he might be dead by then, Gob."

"Dead? Kid what do you mean? What happened?"

Gob leads me over to Charon's bed and we sit down. Five years ago, Gob talked to me on this very bed, telling me all he knew about me. It feels strange, to be back in this room.

"They…they took him. He's under contract again."

"Who took him? The Outcasts?"

I nod, wiping my face with the back of my hand.

"He…he helped me escape but didn't explain why. Charon he…he doesn't remember me. I don't know why, I think they made him forget. He…he might be in really big trouble…"

Unlike Roy, Gob doesn't try to get the full story out of me. Details aren't important to him. He just wants to know the bottom line, and that suits me just fine.

"Kid…what…what are you gonna do?"

Gob asks. I'm glad he does. It shows he cares about me and Charon. Stupid Roy, putting off the plan until tomorrow. What the fuck does he need to do? Get beauty sleep? All the sleep in the world couldn't help that ugly fucker.

"I…I don't know. Roy says he'll talk to Michael and Quinn tomorrow but, Gob I don't have that kind of time. Charon doesn't have that kind of time."

"You can't go by yourself? No, no that's stupid. They're Outcasts, they outnumber you in people and weapons."

"I don't know. If I go by myself, if I…can get better guns now, I'll leave. I don't care if it kills me I have to see if he's okay."

"As much as I hate to admit this, Roy is right. You should wait until you have a small team. At least then there's a distraction."

"A distraction from what? From seeing Charon's dead body sooner?"

Gob sighs, patting my hand.

"Kid, I didn't mean it like that. Charon's a tough guy, I don't think he'll go down without a fight."

"Gob, he's _under contract_ again. Just like he was with Ahzrukhal and with me. He _can't_ fight back."

"I don't know what to say."

I want him to say he has a few Mini Nukes and a Fat Boy stashed somewhere, but I know better. I know Gob's about as armed as a damned Molerat. And I need a Deathclaw.

"He's in trouble, Gob, and no one wants to help me."

I feel defeated. As if this time, it really is me against the world. Well, a small army, really. If Michal and Quinn and Roy decide not to help me by tomorrow night, I'm going to have to go this alone. I can't put it off for days or weeks, Charon doesn't have that. Whatever the Outcasts are planning, they're going to plan it faster now. I got out. Me. The one person who can stop them. They're so stupid. If they never took Charon from me, then they'd never have this on their hands. I don't care what they do really, so long as they keep away from me. But coming into my life, taking my Charon, and doing all of this, is sort of an invitation for me to fuck their shit up.

"People want to help you, but right now isn't the best time. Roy is smart, I'm sure he knows going into a battle unplanned and ill equipped isn't the best move."

"It's a _move_ nonetheless, Gob."

"I know, kid. I know you're worried and scared, but Charon is fine. The Outcasts won't hurt him."

"How do you know?"

"Because he's too valuable an asset to them to kill. So he let you go, big deal. For all you know, he could lie and simply say you ran off and he was unable to catch you. Plus, I think the Outcasts know if they kill him, you'll blow them up."

"I'm blowing them up anyways."

Gob chuckles, and I glare at him. This isn't a comedy. I'm not laughing.

"I'm sorry kid, but blowing shit up just seems to be your trademark move. Fort Bannister, the Citadel, and god knows how many other small areas in between."

"They deserved all of it."

"Maybe, but still."

I begin to think over the plans. On the floor near the door, is the notebook that Charon gave to me before I left. Granted it is my notebook, so he should have given it to me, but…you never know. So I decide to get it. Pick it up off of the floor, and thumb through it. But as I get up, I flinch from the pain in my ribs.

"Kid?"

Gob says, and I look at him.

"Nothing. It's nothing."

He doesn't believe me. Gob looks at me, and I sigh, shaking my head.

"It was an accident."

I say as I begin to take my top off. Gob's confused at first, but then when he sees the bandages beneath my top, his confusion turns to worry.

"What happened?"

He blurts, and I shrug. I haven't had time to unwrap the bandages and see the damage for myself. I wonder if there's bruising?

"Charon…he…well he was supposed to kill me, right? But he didn't. Second time in his life his employer ordered him to kill me, and he disobeyed. Funny, huh?"

Gob shakes his head. He reaches for the bandages, but I flinch in pain. I don't care tit for tat if he sees me naked, it just hurts is all.

"So he breaks you in half instead?"

I shrug, smiling wryly at him.

"Better than dead."

"Come on, let's get you down to the showers."

Since Doc Barrows went to Rivet City, the ghouls here rely on the radiation to heal them. Although, even before I purified the water, this place was the only area in the Wasteland to have pure, clean, running water. I bet some tampering done by Winthrop fixed that right up, though. Ghouls don't need purified water, really. They live and thrive on it, rely on it…the same as I do. But getting my ribs fixed isn't the most important thing on my mind. What is, is getting back to Charon. Time isn't on my side. By now even, Casdin could have…well shit I don't want to think about that. It gives me misty eyes.


	56. Into the Night

(Charon)

I could not kill her. I had every intent to end her life right then and there, atop the roof of Fort Independence. My orders were to kill upon insubordination. She was insubordinate, but I did not kill. Something prevented me from doing so. Last minute, something stopped my finger from squeezing the trigger. It forced me to merely knock her unconscious with my gun, breaking three or so of her ribs in the process. That same unknown force, drove me to pick her limp, lifeless, fragile body from the concrete and carry her back to her room.

It drove me to tend to her wounds, to carefully and tightly wrap stiff gauze around her upper torso, as her words floated in my head. _I love you, Charon_. She said to me, before I silenced her. Love. She spoke of love. Of the emotion I have read about, and heard so many tales of. She claimed she loved me, cared for me in that same sense. I feel it was because of that, that I could not fulfill my obligations.

I knew before she woke, that she would not be allowed to stay. Her survival would prove to my employer that I did not follow my order. Whatever past Dez claims to have with me, I am sure my employer is aware of. There is no doubt in my mind anymore, that what she says has a possibility of being true. She touched me, willingly, without flinching or hesitation. No one has ever laid a gentle touch upon me. It was then, as I sat watching her sleep, making sure that the Outcasts and my employer had returned to their own slumbers, that I decided to let her go.

When she told me she would be coming back, I did not believe her. This foolish, little girl has no idea of the weaponry that the Outcasts have. What could possibly make her think she could take them on? I did not deny her, though. I did not attempt to prove her wrong or argue her statement. I simply accepted her empty promise, and urged her to go. It would have gone smoothly, had she not kissed me.

It felt familiar. Her lips against mine. I did not know what to do, but I knew what I wanted to do. I wanted to return her kiss, to embrace her. Never, have I felt desires like that in my life. I have been trained to live without them. But for that instance, where I could feel her, and taste the salt from her tears, I felt something. I am not sure what it was, but it was powerful. So powerful I was frightful it would overcome me. It was powerful enough, to have me rethink my actions, and for a moment consider following her to wherever she may be going.

I did not follow her. I knew better. I know where my loyalties and contract lies. I had told her to go, to run and hurry at the sound of her mutt's growling. As I watched her run, and eventually vanish into the horizon of night, I noticed she did not look back. Not once. As long as she was gone, I felt better. Like I had done something I was supposed to do. No human, person, anyone, has ever caused me to disobey a direct order.

By the time she vanished beyond my eyesight, the Outcasts were upon me. They did not harm me, they are ordered not to. Simply, they held their guns to me, frantically searching for the girl. The wind, thankfully, covered her footsteps. The same unknown force that caused me to let her go, covered her tracks in the dirt that surrounds us.

"Where is she!"

One of the Outcasts demanded, but I did not reply. He is not my employer, I do not have to answer to him. They wanted to hurt me, wanted to beat me bloody and broken, as they took me back to Fort Independence. But they did not. They laid no hands on me, as I calmly walked ahead of them. I could feel it in the air, the want and desperation they felt. I knew then, that they knew I had let her go. Without proof, they had nothing. I believe that they are taking faith in my employer, to uncover the truth. Which is why I stand here now, before him, before his disapproving look and knowing, sadistic smirk.

"I knew you'd fail me, Charon."

He says, an air of matter-of-fact to his words. I stand before him, confused.

"What do you mean?"

I ask of him, wishing that someone may tell me the truth.

"You allowed the _one_ person that could ruin our plans, to leave. You _helped_ her escape! Do you deny it?"

"No."

I cannot lie to my employer. He did not order the answer out of me, but I have always believed honesty to be the best policy. Lying, in where I was raised, often resulted in a trip to the infirmary. One that very few returned from.

"I should have known better, than to allow someone like you to watch over her. I was stupid, ignorant to the truth."

"What truth?"

"That you are no longer the employee you were trained to be."

His words confuse me. They build doubt and question in my mind. Aside from aiding the girl in her escape, I have done nothing to deserve his doubt.

"I am capable of doing everything I was trained to do."

I remind him, angry, that he would place doubt in me. It took my entire life, for me to learn all I have, and mere moments for him to call it nothing. It may have been two-hundred years and a handful more, but I am still as sharp as ever. I can track a single Radroach from miles and miles away. I can single-handedly take down up to four opponents unarmed. I can receive multiple bullet wounds before fully going down, and even then I do not die. It takes much, to kill someone as trained and as stubborn as I am.

"No, Charon, you aren't. With that girl that…_heathen_ you are incapable of doing even the simplest of things."

"I have done everything you have ordered of me and executed it flawlessly."

"You did not kill her, Charon. You let her _free_."

He is right, so I do not argue. I cannot tell him why I let her free, because even I do not know the answer to that. I could simply call it the 'unknown force', but I am aware such things to not truly exist.

"It was a mistake that I am now regretting. I do not know, why I allowed her or aided in her leaving. It will not happen again."

"Well how could it? She's not here. She's gone. And we have _no_ idea where she went. I should kill you for this. For disobeying such an important order."

"I can bring her back."

I state, and something clicks in my employer's head. Apparently I have said something, that causes him to come up with another plan. He begins to pace, and a feeling I do not much enjoy begins to arise in me. Thoughts race through my mind. _What have I done?_ Done? I have done nothing. Simply correcting a mistake that I was foolish enough to make. That is all. I misjudged a situation, when I should have complied and followed orders. Fixing that mistake will reinstate my employer's faith in me. In my training. However, I can not help but notice, that although I am doing what is expected of me, a deep feeling arises inside of my stomach. As if I have just swallowed a brick of lead, it sits, gnawing at me. I do not know what it is, or why it is there, but it is uncomfortable.

"You could, perhaps bring her back, yes. But I do not trust you. I no longer trust your training, or your judgment. Until further notice, you are to be locked in the cells. Do you understand?"

"Yes."

"Hand over your weapons. That, is an order."

I do as I am told without argument or hesitation. Giving up my only firearm, the one I have had and held with me since before I can remember, is difficult. But I comply. I comply because it is my duty. I must not disobey any order, despite what my subconscious believes.

Never in my life have I disobeyed. Even when ordered to do horrible things, wretched things that just the thought of sends shudders down my spine. I have never disobeyed. Tonight, I did. I disobeyed twice, if one would like to get technical. Not only did I fail to kill the girl, but I also aided in her escape. I was ordered to keep her here, and prevent any attempts she may make at freedom. I can understand my employer's distrust in me now. It sits with me like an uncomfortable feeling of being watched.

I look over my shoulder constantly, as three Outcasts lead me down long, twisting corridors of Fort Independence. I keep expecting a punishing blow to come from behind. One my trainers would give to me, for my disobedience, but none arrives. It is the shadows of my past, that haunt me, and cause me to jump at small noises. The dark halls, lit only by a few dim lights, and the lights on the Outcasts' armor, have an eerie, foreboding glow to them. They remind me so much of the facility where I was trained and held. Our footsteps echo mercilessly, due to the silence between us. I feel as if I am walking to my death. As if the men beneath these masks are the reincarnation of my former trainers. As if, they will return to the world above, and tell my employer that their own secret mission has been completed. If that is the case, and I am to die by the hands of the Outcast Knights who walk with me, then perhaps I should begin to think of the past two-hundred years.

Secretly, I have always enjoyed the smells of late spring, and early summer. When the world was once in bloom, and the sun was warm but not burning. With these months of beauty came bloodshed, timeless, always. I made it a point, to keep my mind focused on the scents of the earth, as opposed to the scent of death upon my hands. I have missed the feeling of grass beneath my bare feet, a simple pleasure most take for granted. The wind, rubbing against a five-o-clock shadowed face, as I stand beneath a warm sun, with my gun tightly clasped in my hand, is a memory too far gone for me to recall. I anticipate this walk to be my last. I wonder, if my classmates had similar moments, while they too were nearing death? Did they perhaps allow their minds to wander, to a life never lived? Repent, for all their sins against humanity? I do not know. All I can account for, is my own thoughts, my own actions.

My own actions brought me here. To this corridor, to the thoughts of wind kissing my cheeks, and the feel of soft grass beneath me. I chose not to obey an order, and shall accept my punishment. Yet this is all for a girl. A silly girl, whom I do not fully know, nor wish to know. For someone I was simply ordered to babysit, and keep an eye on. For a girl who claimed she loved me, and kissed my own lips with hers. Strangely, I do not feel regret. I remember the moment where she vanished over the horizon, her tracks long-gone from desert winds. I feel as if I had done something right. It was a warm feeling, a bittersweet one per-say. I have done many wretched and horrible things in my long existence, but I feel as if allowing that stupid girl to run free, was something right. Something fair and just. I can only hope that when this walk ends, my maker agrees, and sympathizes with the life that I was given.


	57. Lost Without You

Water, warm, irradiated water, mixes with the salty tears on my face. The feelings and sensations from inside my chest tells me that my ribs are healing. It doesn't matter. I stand in the middle of the shower, hardly feeling the water as it thuds against my back. I stare down at my bare feet, my hair hanging down on the sides of my face. I can see the water dripping from the strands of my dark hair. Dark, because it's wet. I can see water drip from my nose, and taste it on my lips. Usually, the taste of radiation would cure any bad mood. Usually it would make me warm inside, fuzzy, clean, fresh. Not tonight. No. It doesn't even faze me, as it tingles and tickles and warms me from the inside out. It might as well not even be there, for all I care.

Moving, I wrap my arms around myself, resting my hands on my shoulders. The exposed muscle on my wrist reminds me. The scars along my forearms, the ones exposed on my stomach, the ones that shine on my legs, they all remind me. Of what? Of a time when things were so different, so easy. Back then…back then I thought it as the hardest thing in the world. But if I could go back, and warn myself…I would. I'd tell my nineteen-year-old self to stay. To run with Charon, and never look back, never give him up, and never _ever_ trust anyone else. I'd change it all, if I could. Maybe.

Most of the time, I can't help but think that if things didn't happen the way they did, then Charon and I wouldn't have ever become. If I hadn't tried to off myself that first night, would he have been interested in me? If the Talons hadn't taken us in, and forced him to shock me to near-death, would he have ever come to feel for me? No, no I don't think so. Things happen for a reason. They have to. If not, why would anything occur? Even if I have no proof of that theory being true, it helps me sleep better at night. It helps, when the demons come crawling out from the recesses of my mind, to soothe them back. It helps, to remember Charon as the cold-hearted bastard he once was. Because back then, as cold-hearted, as bastard-y as he was, he was mine. He cared for me, above all else, and it meant more to me than life itself.

I was alone for so long. My entire life, even I'd say. Alone, always playing with my toys alone, working on schoolwork alone, sleeping alone. Until Butch came but even then I was alone. No one understood, no one bothered to try. It didn't make any difference to me. After all, back then I'd never felt the amazing feelings that come with companionship, so I never knew what I was missing out. I mean, until one Jet-fueled decision changed all of that. It was a reckless choice, of hindered morals and a thing called 'conscience'. Suddenly, though, I had someone. Someone cared enough to pretend to care. I wasn't alone. After that, I never wanted to be alone again. Never wanted to sleep, knowing there was nothing and no one beside me. But I did. I gave it all away for a trip to self-discovery. I found I didn't like myself much. I found I had it all before I left.

And now here I am. Alone again. Alone, in this shower stall, with the noisy pipes and creaking of the old building. All I can do is blame myself for all of this. Because it is all my fault. If I hadn't of left, for stupid New Vegas, none of this would be happening. But you want to know what the sickest thing about this whole situation? About Charon being gone, and me standing here? It's that the world goes on. The Wasteland is alive, bright, without us. It moves with everything else. People go about their daily lives, unknown that the person who helped bring them the possibility of regrowth is possibly dead now. That the girl who never intended for any of this to happen, stands in a shower stall, crying.

Putting my head back, I close my eyes and let the water rush on my face. My ribs feel better, healed. The radiation never fails. Something that would have normally taken me weeks to recover from, has been cured in moments by a simple chemical. I can do what I want now. But…what do I want to do? I have to wait until tomorrow, before I can begin finding Charon. By then it might be too late, though. No. No I don't have to wait. It's sheer suicide, for me to do what I'm thinking, but it's worth it. For Charon, who has always risked his life for me, stuck by me through the worst of times, it is worth it. I may die doing this, probably will, but if I can just _see_ him. If I can just know he's alright, and they haven't killed him, won't kill him, then I'll die happy.

Turning off the shower, I step out of the stall and grab the towel Gob loaned me. Pressing my face into it, I sigh, and sniff the snot up from my nose. There's no turning back. If I don't do this now, for him, he might not live to see tomorrow. I have to do it. So I dry myself, and run an old brush through my hair as I toss it up into a ponytail. I can't have it getting in the way. I don't want anything to interfere, if I can help it. Grabbing my clothes, I dress as quickly as I can. I'll need a weapon, anything will do. Going in there unarmed isn't the best choice, even though I'm already going against the odds. Gob might have one or two for me. Getting him to give them up will be the hard thing. I'm sure he'll just tell me to relax, and wait for tomorrow. Well, fuck tomorrow. I have to do this now, and he better understand.

"Hey kid."

I nearly jump out of my skin as I step out of the restrooms. Gob's voice catches me off guard, and I look to my left. He and Dogmeat stand against the wall, Gob smokes, Dogmeat pants. By the look on Gob's face, I know he knows.

"Hey."

I say back, my voice a bit empty.

"Listen, here. You can have this. Figure you'll need it more than I do."

He hands me a Chinese Assault Rifle. I don't like the automatic weapons like this, but I figure it'll do better than any other shotgun I've used.

"Guess I don't need to explain?"

I ask, sarcastic a bit.

"Kid, you were leaving the second you arrived. You just didn't know it yet."

"Mad?"

"No, just worried. I know you an' Charon made it through a lot, but shit…this is bigger. This time, he ain't on your side. Can't help but think I might lose the only two people in the world I still give a damn about."

"You still have Zack if that happens."

"Ever talk to a five-year-old? They ain't much for conversation."

The tone is light and comical, but it's strained and sad. Gob and I both know I probably won't be coming back, and that this is in fact a suicide mission. But Gob also knows that Charon and I just can't exist apart. He's known that longer than I have. He knows it now.

"Yeah, I can see your point. But, thanks for the gun. It's going to come in handy."

"Kid, when you get through to Charon, remind him that he's a fuckin' ass will ya?"

He said 'when', not 'if'. Deep down, I wish he said 'if', that way, he wouldn't have false hope.

"Yeah, sure I will. Tell Roy in the morning I took off. Maybe if Charon and I get back here alive, in one piece, with his mind back and working, I'll tell him what a dick Roy was."

"Now that's just planning a funeral."

"You have shovels."

We laugh uneasily. I rub the back of my neck, as I strap the gun to my back. It's long and uncomfortable, but I deal.

"See you soon, kid."

Gob says, throwing his cigarette on the tile floor. He steps on it to put it out, and I lean forward, doing the thing neither one of us want to. Wrapping my arms around him, I bury my face in the nape of his neck. His body squishes against mine, his arms slide around my waist, and his smell engulfs me. It's the kind of smell that only Gob can smell like. I can only describe it as Gob. I fight back tears, as we cling to the embrace, knowing that this may very well be the last time we ever get to do this.

"I've always loved you, kid. You've always had a special place in my heart."

"Yeah, me too. I'm really going to miss you, Gob."

"If you come back alone, you always have a place with me."

I hold him tighter, really feeling the warmth of friendship for the first time in my life.

"Thank you Gob. For everything."

"I ain't done much, kid. I should be thankin' you."

"You were my first real friend, Gob. Thank you for that."

I don't want to let go of Gob. For the first time in a while, I feel like everything is going to be okay. That everything will work out, so long as we stay just like this. But, eventually, I feel his arms sliding away, and his body leaving mine. I have to step back. I take one last look at him, and burn his features and his face into my mind. I never want to forget the first friend I ever made.

"I have to go now."

I say stupidly, and Gob nods. There's fresh tears in his eyes, but he blinks them away. To prevent me from crying, I crouch down to pet Dogmeat.

"Hey boy…listen, you have to stay here. It's too dangerous where I'm going."

Dogmeat whimpers and nudges me with his nose. I smile sadly at him, looking up at Gob.

"I'll take care of the stupid mutt."

Gob tells me, and I give him a smirk.

"Stay here, Dogmeat."

Kissing the top of Dogmeat's head, I stand up and smile at Gob. He nods, and motions for me to get going. Time isn't on my side. Nothing, it seems, is on my side. I'm going under the cover of night, back to the place where so long ago I once felt so safe. I'm facing a small army, all on my own. Worst of all, is I might be facing the one person in this world who I want to share my entire life with. If that's the case, and it ends up with Charon and I fighting it out, then I'll let him win. I'll let him kill me, so long as it means he's allowed to live. After all, if he can't remember me, it won't bother him. At least, if that happens, I hope it won't bother him.

Leaving the tower isn't hard. Not looking back, and hearing the gate close behind me as I take my first step back into the Capital Wasteland, doesn't bother me. Looking up at the billions upon billions of bright and shining stars above, and seeing the moon acting as a second sun across the hills and rocky cliffs of the land, brings me a sad comfort. Looking ahead though, bothers me. Ahead, not too far, is the end. The end of what? Of me and Charon, I think. The end of my life, his, or both. It's the end of the world, as I know it. I don't feel alright with that. I don't feel alright or okay with any other outcome besides the two of us leaving hand in hand and smiling stupidly as Fort Independence blows up behind us. But I know that outcome probably isn't possible. That it's a stupid and empty pipe dream. Maybe I should have brought Dogmeat with me. No, no he'd bark and give away whatever cover I may have. Shit. I don't even have a plan. What am I going to do? Walk right up to the front doors and saunter in? The Outcasts aren't really preparing a welcome home party for me, if you get what I mean. So how do I get in? How do I breach the perimeter, even?

There's bound to be Knights on guard. Watching, making sure the only girl in the world crazy enough to pull this isn't going to. I have no plan of action, and I don't really feel like making one. My entire life has been based on impulsive choices, irrational decisions, and clouded judgment. Why change that now? I mean, if it wasn't for all of those things, Charon wouldn't have ever met me. We'd just have crossed paths one night, and it would have stayed at that. I have to remind myself of that, though. That all along, my impulsive decisions have been the things to bring us together. That listening to my heart and not my head is what made us closer.

Tonight, I said goodbye to Gob. I said goodbye to the first ghoul I kissed, the first friend I ever made. I don't know if I'll be coming back. I don't know if I'll die inside of that fort, or even on my way to it. But…at least they know. At least Gob knows I love him, and at least Charon once did. Zack got to see me, and now he can remember me. I hope that if I die here, Gob will say only good things about me. That he'll speak my name in high regard, and that he'll tell Zack wonderful stories of me, as he learns how to shoot and be on his own. I hope Zack never goes through anything I did. I hope his life is easier than mine, and Charon's, and Gob's. I hope he knows that not only me, but everyone, loves him.

I look up at the blackish blue night sky as I keep a steady pace in the dirt. A loose wind brushes stray strands of hair into my face. Stars twinkle, high, bright, far away, above me. I've walked this earth a thousand times. Felt the same dirt beneath my feet since I was nineteen. I can feel the kiss of the dirt, as the wind picks it up and brushes it against my cheeks. Sometimes, I dream of rain. Of rain, in this desert land we call home. I dream of a better place, a place I won't live to see. I dream of happiness, of a place made just for me. One day, I dream of seeing roses, as I once did within books inside the vault. I used to dream of being alone, of living in satellite dishes. Now…now I just dream of places that won't ever exist, destroyed by nuclear war, destroyed by everything. Perhaps Charon was right, so many years ago, when he told me the passage that goes along with my birthday. Only…only I'm the only one walking, bearing the fruits and consequences, of the actions of others. No one else, no one else seems to care.


	58. Planning

(Casdin)

"They have spotted her on the horizon. What are our orders, sir?"

McGraw has burst into my office, much to my dismay. I'm in no mood to deal with him, or the girl. Rather, I feel like going over the blueprints to our plans. The plans of the Brotherhood. My plans, to bring this world up to speed, and rebuild society once more. Glancing up at McGraw, I can tell by the urgent look on his face that he anticipates a swift reply. I don't bother to give him one. Right now, I am thinking of the ghoul. How _dare_ he disobey me! It wasn't like I didn't expect it, I knew that he has disobeyed orders in the past for that girl, but I had a small hope that the new contract written up for him would have stopped all that nonsense. Perhaps, though, it did to an extent.

The ghoul did not disobey me when I had asked him to watch her, nor did he disobey when I told him he had the right to exercise physical violence if she became unruly. I heard that they had a scuffle on the way to her room the first night here. The only time he _did_ disobey me, however, was when it mattered most. My question is…why then? Why not before? What snapped in his mind that made him change for her at that very moment?"

"Sir?"

McGraw calls once more, quite urgently. My mind works and I ponder, as I begin to think up a plan.

"Capture her."

"Sir?"

"Yes. Capture her, alive, and bring her here. Lock her in the cells this time."

"But, but sir?"

McGraw is openly confused at my words. Understandable.

"She is special, solider."

"How do you mean?"

"Anne found, a few years back, that this girl is immune to radiation. Yet, she is still human."

"What's that have to do with us?"

"Perhaps she could be of some use to us. We'll pull Anne off the field. Give her the girl to study. Imagine, if we could somehow create a serum that caused the Outcasts to share that trait? Immune humans. Do you understand what that could do for us, for the Brotherhood?"

"No, sir, I don't."

"No more stimpaks, no more medical doctors. Simply utilize the radiation to heal yourselves. Imagine being on the battlefield, and getting wounded. All you would need to do, would be to simply sit in a spot of radiation. No more weeks of healing and rehabilitation…"

There is a solemn silence, as McGraw thinks over my idea. It does not matter to me if he approves or not. I am the commanding officer here, he must do as I say.

"Understood, sir."

It is all McGraw says before he runs out my door. The Knights outside cannot allow this girl to enter the base. If so, it would be easy pickings for her. The narrow halls and layout of Fort Independence would be used to her advantage. Filing the Knights into rows and lines, the girl could easily pick them off, one by one. That is, of course, if she has the right shots. It takes more than a simple bullet to pierce Power Armor.

Sitting at my desk, I pull out the ghoul's contract. Reading it over, I search for loopholes. I find none. It still bothers me, as to why he would decide to disobey that particular order. He had no sign or show that his mind was working, remembering. However, there was one instance. He came to my office, and I was quite astounded by his arrival. We were getting into conversation, when the girl suddenly cried his name. I knew the look upon his face before he had even realized it was there. For a moment, I was frightened that it had all come back to him, and chasing him would be the death of me. I was proven wrong. He stopped his vicious beating on Rococo at my order, and returned to his normal stage, as I know him. Still, it is quite odd and unnerving, knowing how quickly his mind could switch.


	59. Mistakes Like Friends Do

"Let me go you bastards!"

I scream to no avail as three Knights toss me into a cell.  
"You're lucky we didn't kill you for that!"

One of them screams at me, as they lean into the bars. I lunge, trying to grab the stupid helmet that they wear. But they move away too fast, and I can't wrap my fingers around it. All of them step back, laughing at me.

"Fuck you!"

I spit at them, enraged. If I had been more fucking careful, they wouldn't have gotten me. I was doing great. I used the night as cover, and hid behind rocks, and sniped them out best I could with an automatic weapon. Shit, I thought I had it in the bag. I took out five guards before these three snuck up on me. I'm not even sure how they did it, actually. I just knew all of a sudden, I was being grabbed, my gun was being torn from my hands, and people were shouting at me.

I did look around, though. When they all had decent holds on me, and were dragging me inside the fort, I looked. Looked for Charon, for any sign of him. The longer I went without seeing him, the deeper they took me down, the more I panicked. The more I kicked, flailed, screamed, and made noise. I fucking _hate_ anyone in Power Armor, let me tell you. No one will even tell me _why_ they want me so bad. All I have to go on are my fucked up theories, and none of them really make much sense to me. But I don't think even they know why they want me.

"Enjoy your stay. You'll be here a _long_ time."

Another Knight calls as they begin to walk away. I try to shake the steel bars that trap me in this fucking place, but they don't budge. They're fused with the concrete. Fucking dirty place. It's dark, damp, cool, and downright uncomfortable. But hey, at least I'm not dead. Everyone's mistake seems to be that they just don't _kill_ me. I mean, they have all the chances in the world to, but they just _don't_. I can't figure why they don't, but all I can say is their stupidity has saved my ass a bunch of times.

"Hey! Hey!"

I scream down the hall, my voice echoing and bouncing. I don't care if I die and rot in this place. All I want is to see that Charon is okay. I never did. Not one trace of him. It makes me think the worse. Makes me think that Casdin already ordered him to be killed. Or killed him himself. Fuck. I can't deal with that right now. A part of me thought, held on, to the idea that he could still be alive. Even though I returned the same night I left, I was still too late. Shit.

Shit. Shit. Shit. No, no it can't be. No. Charon has to be here somewhere. He just _has_ to be. Casdin said it himself, that Charon was special. Why kill someone you think is special? But maybe he was scared that since Charon slipped up and let me escape, that he had reverted over to his old self. But…but even if that is what Casdin thought, then why did Charon return to him? Huh? He wasn't his old self, he was confused. That's all. No reason to kill him. None. But then again, I've killed people for much less than that.

Leaning on the bars, with my hands wrapped around them above my head, I press my forehead on the cool steel and sigh.

"Fuck."

I whisper, and even that echoes. I can hear my own voice, and I don't like it. My hands tighten around the bars, as my mind wander. Charon's dead. I never thought those two words would leave my mouth. Never thought they'd be placed next to one another, either. But here I stand, no sign or trace of Charon, not even his name being said aloud. He has to be dead. Unless Casdin has him hiding in his office, but I doubt that. If Casdin really wanted to hurt me, which I know he does, he would have sent Charon down to kick my royal ass. He didn't. I'm not sure what hurts more, either. The fact that Charon didn't arrive to beat me senseless, or the fact that I haven't seen Charon at all. I'd take a beating. I'd take the hits, the blood, the broken bones, the punches, _anything_ if it meant that I could just see him. Just know he's alive.

Shaking my head between the bars, I sigh heavily. I don't know right now, if I should hate myself or not. Hate myself for being so weak six years ago, and allowing the Jet to overrule my own judgment. For being stupid enough to keep Charon around, and for being even dumber for letting him get close. I should have kept it as a business deal. Kept it as…as I don't know. But he was with me. With me when my father died, when the Project Purity fell into my hands. He was with me when I wanted to die, wanted the sweet release of death to come and find me, to rid me of this place. He's been with me when I cried, mourning the death of my dad. When I laughed, and was happy for a moment. He never judged me. Never gave up on me. I don't know…if I should hate myself, for letting him do all those things.

"It is no use to yell. They will not come."

What? No. No it can't be. I grip the bars so tight, I feel my palms nearly cracking against the metal, bleeding, almost. Slowly, I lift my head, feeling the indents and imprints left from the bars. My heart races, pounds, so loud I swear I can hear it echoing on its own. Turning, I look back into the cell. It's rather large, bigger than the room I was in before. No windows, no light, I quickly begin to press buttons on my Pip-Boy. Greenish light floods around me, lighting the room brighter than the sun. Well, anyways, it looks that way. Then I see him. I see him sitting on a bench, in the far left back corner of the cell.

Given the circumstances, I shouldn't be this overjoyed. I should be plotting, planning, and figuring out some way to get out of here. But I'm not. Instead, I'm standing in place, frozen with excitement and joy, at the fact of seeing Charon alive. He's _alive_.

"Charon…"

Without hesitation, finding my legs, I race towards him. I can't stop the tears from falling, can't wipe the stupid grin off of my face. I don't care. I don't. All I care about right now is him, he's alive, _alive_. Diving into his chest, I wrap my arms around him, burying my face in his rough, leather armor. The same leather armor that the Outcasts gave to him five years ago. He still smells exactly the same as he once did when we first met.

"You're alive…"

I say, shaking and quivering. I don't expect him to return my embrace, so I'm not surprised when he doesn't. But, he doesn't push me away, either. He lets me kneel in front of him, clinging to him like a damn Raider on Psycho.

"Yes. I am alive."

Monotone and blunt. Not the Charon I remember, not one bit, but I don't care. He's here, and he's alive.

"I thought…I thought…"

Sobs choke out between deep breaths of air. My hands grip the leather that decorates his body, pulling the straps, tugging at him as if I'm falling. I feel his back stiffen against my movements, just as he did back in Megaton the night I first cried. He doesn't know what to do, what to expect. It's okay. He's here.

"What did you think?"

He asks, not curious, simply wanting me to finish my thought.

"I thought they killed you."

I manage to choke out. I don't want to look at him. I want to kneel here, and keep my eyes closed. I want to pretend that…that we're somewhere else. That it's all okay.

"No, they did not kill me."

Pulling away from him, against my better judgment, I look up at him. He looks exactly the same. Every time we part, each time we go without seeing one another, for some reason I think he's going to look different. I don't know why. I just do. But he never does. For the years I've known him, and I'm sure the years before, he's looked the same. Aside from turning into a ghoul, that is. Charon. He remains constantly Charon. Since I've known him, since I've been outside of the vault, he's been the only constant in my life. Always there, always waiting, always in the background of my story, jumping up from simple pawn to the role of king. He's always been there for me, protecting me, letting me call shots and make moves. Exactly like the game of Chess. Only…only _I'm_ the one who needs protection, not like him, not the king. The king, allowed only one space of movement, while the queen can move freely, whichever way she wants. Charon, like the king, is confined to only whatever the player, employer, wants.

"I'm so happy to see you."

I blurt out, before even realizing it. Clasping my hand over my mouth, I look at him. He has no expression, he just stares down at me, as I foolishly kneel in front of him. Well, fuck it. I _want_ to kneel in front of him. I want to be this close to him. I miss him, even if he doesn't know me from a hole in the wall. There was a time, where I didn't know him from one.

"That is odd."

"Why?"

Insert temporary lapse of memory.

"It is odd that you should be happy to see someone, whom you do not know, and whom your experiences with have been less than enjoyable."

I give up. I'm not going to try to convince him of who I am and the lovely past we shared together. I'm just going to be me, and see how well that fares. In the past…it's fared pretty well. I'd say, anyways.

"Yeah well, I could say the same for you. But you were always happy to see me."

"Impossible. I do not know you, nor do I have the capacity to feel emotions like that. Nor, may I add, do I want to."

"You know what I remember?"

I say, as I sit up and take a seat close to him. At first, he moves away, putting a foot of space between us. But I fix that. I scoot closer, and rest my head on his arm. I don't care if I make him so uncomfortable he pisses himself. He is Charon, and he _will_ remember me and he _will_ remember how hard I'm trying or god have mercy on this world's soul. After all, hell hath no fury like Dezbe scorned. Isn't that the saying? No? Well, it fucking should be.

"What is it that you remember?"

The slight tone in his voice speaks of annoyance. My mind doesn't care. For now, right now, in this moment, we're alone. For right now, everything else is frozen. Together, Charon and I are in our own world, in this stupid cell, in the basement-hell of Fort Independence. For now.

"I remember when I left for The Pitt. I was so terrified to leave. I couldn't bring you with me, at all. I remember standing on that platform, and hugging you so tight I thought I was going to hurt you. Then I remembered nothing could do that. So I left. You told me, as I was leaving, that you'd be in Underworld. I went straight there, after I got out, after I got better. You…you were happy to see me then, you know. I could see it in your eyes. You were happy that I came back."

I close my eyes for a minute, while Charon soaks up the short story. I don't expect him to believe me. I know he won't, but just hearing myself say it, hearing my own voice reminding me that it happened, makes me feel a bit better inside.

"You have a wild imagination."

"I'll get your contract, Charon."

"What for? I am content here."

"Content with being in a cell?"

"I presume it is only to teach me a lesson. My employer would have killed me now if he had wanted me dead."

His statement and stupid ignorance makes me so mad that I can't help but jump up and stare at him.

"You're fucking kidding me, right?"

He looks up at me, his expression set.

"No. I am not 'kidding' you. I expect my employer will be down in a few days' time to retrieve me."

Okay. That's it.

"When are you going to get it through that _thick_ skull of yours that _no one_ gives a _shit_ about you? You are going to _die_ here, Charon, just like me, if you don't _snap_ out of it and blast us the _fuck_ out of here!"

He stares at me, his eyebrows narrowing. I can tell I've pissed him off, just a little, but I don't give a flying fuck.

"I am not going to die here. You, on the other hand, are an entirely different story."

"Oh, because I don't have the fucking _skills_ you are so fucking blessed with? Well _excuse me_ for being normal!"

Charon stands up, advancing towards me. I don't move, and his chest hits my shoulders gently. Even though he's mad, all I want to do right now is hug him, hold him, and get the fuck out of here with him. But I don't, because I am stubborn.

"I am not _blessed_ with this existence, little girl. I am simply doing as I have always been instructed to do."

"You seem to be one hot commodity! All because you're _trained_ and _skilled_ well fuck you! Fuck you and your training! It's because of that, that you don't _remember_ me! The _one person_ who ever gave a _shit_ about you!"

"I am sure that if you were worth remembering, I would have."

Balling my hands into fists, I hold back the urge to hit him.

"Go back to the fucking whore you crawled out of. Oh wait, you can't. You _killed_ her!"

Harsh even by my standards but shit, if he can't remember me, then I don't care. Maybe some tough love will bring him back to the real world. Charon leers at me, I can see the anger seeping from him. I don't care.

"How do you know of that?"

He says through gritted teeth. Folding my arms in front of my chest, I shake my head.

"If you remembered me, you'd fucking know."

The blow comes so fast, that at first I don't even realize what's happened. One minute I'm staring defiantly into Charon's eyes, the next I'm on the floor, in agonizing pain. That fucker punched me in the face. Getting my bearings, I find I can see double of everything, and my head aches. I'm not exactly sure where in the face he hit me, because everything seems to hurt or feel numb right now. I am able to see two of him walking over to me, and the thudding and echoing of his footsteps causes my head to throb painfully. I can't figure out my own body enough to even put my hands up.

"You deserve every horror that the Outcasts and my employer put you through, you ungrateful, little girl."

Charon snarls, before kicking me in the stomach. Lucky he doesn't break any bones, misses them completely, but unlucky he does wind me. I can't breathe. All I can manage to do, is writher in pain and breathlessness on the cold floor of the cement cell. Eyes wide, I look up at Charon, as he stares down at me. I want to be angry at him. I want to hate him. I want to have no emotional attachment to him, so that I can somehow kill him, and never look back. So that I can escape here, and end all this madness once and for all. But as much as I try, as much as I want to, I can't. I can't hate him, as I stare up at him while the air slowly begins to leak back into my lungs. Our eyes meet, and I can't even find the anger to hit him back.

"F-f-fuck…you."

I stammer, clutching my belly. With difficulty, I sit up. The light of my Pip-Boy shifts, and I dig my nails into the gut part of my stomach to stop the pain. It doesn't work, but the pain is beginning to stop a little bit. Charon purses his lips, as if he's going to say something, but he doesn't. He just stares down at me.

"You brought this upon yourself."

He states, and I sniff my nose.

"You're a monster. Whoever they were, your trainers, they created a fucking monster."

My words go unnoticed, and Charon walks back to the bench he was sitting on before. I can't help but feel angry at this.

"An emotionless, heartless, killing, bastard. That's what you are!"

I yell to him as he sits down. His eyes glow in the dim light. I scratch my nails against the floor.

"And it is what has caused my survival for so long."

Angry now, I'm able to stand. I charge towards him, a menacing finger pointed at his face.

"No! No it's not! Ahzrukhal is what made you survive! He _made_ you into a ghoul! Your contract made you survive because you couldn't say _no_! It has _nothing_ to do with being a heartless bastard!"

Charon stares up at me as I tower over him. Well not exactly 'tower' per say but, still. He's sitting and I'm standing so I win. I can see in his eyes, he's so confused as to how I know about Ahzrukhal, and his past. How I know how he came to be a ghoul.

"How…did you know of that?"

I shake my head, lowering my finger. I have to fight back the tears of desperation, as I stomp away from him. I don't want to be near him right now. Realizing how much of a hold his training, his contract has, destroys me inside.

"You told me."

I say as I make my way across the cell. Sitting down on another bench, I rest my elbows on my knees, and put my head in my hands. There's only so much stress someone like me can take, you know. I'm just in dire need for…for someone to tell me this is all going to be okay one day.

"I see."

Charon says, his voice echoing through the halls and corridors. I wish he would have said something else. Wish he would have asked or even argued with me. Instead, he's just back to accepting my stories as lies, and ignoring them. It hurts, you know. To look into the face of someone you once knew and loved, and know that they don't recognize you. To know that all of those moments and instances shared, are meaningless to them. I can't get those moments back. I can't recreate our first meeting, the Super Duper Mart, the whole entire escapade we had traveling down to Rivet City. I can't, but I find myself wanting to.

"You don't believe me."

I mutter, my head still in my hands.

"No, I do not."

"Then what's the point of replying?"

"To humor you. I will admit it is quite confusing as to how you know all these things about me."

I can't even bring myself to look at him anymore. At least when I was as useful as a rock, I was nice to him. At least back then, I didn't run away or hurt him or none of that. I trusted him, above all else, even when others told me not to. I trusted him.

"It's confusing me as to how you're _still_ bound to contract after six years."

I mutter, my eyes closed, my head facing the floor.

"Six years? Six years is not even a scratch on the surface of how long I have been confined to a contract."

"No, but for six years, you were free of it."

"You are lying. Simply making up stories as women do in order to persuade men to do their dirty work."

Okay, now I look at him. Across the cell, my light hardly reaches him. I see the humor, as I raise an eyebrow.

"Who told you that?"

"My employer."

"Smart man. Must be speaking from experience."

True that. But I never used Charon to get what I wanted, ever. Maybe in some instances I _did_ use my feminine charms to sway men into doing little things for me, but, nothing important. You know, a few beers here, some ammo there, nothing major. Not like I was asking anyone to kill for me, that's for damn sure. I can do that all on my own, like a big girl.

"Hm."

"Well, if that's what you think I'm doing, forget it."

"Forget what?"

Charon. Why do I always have to be so literal?

"Forget that I'm trying to woo you. Even back when we met I knew that shit wouldn't work. If I wanted to woo anybody, I'd woo the guards into letting us go."

"I believe you enjoy saying 'woo'."

"I do. But that's not the point."

Lifting my head, I can hardly believe we're having a real, adult conversation. Baby steps now, Charon, baby steps.

"…You said 'us'."

He states, and I give him a half-assed smirk. I can't tell if he's looking or not, but shit, I try anyways.

"Yeah. Getting _us_ out of here is going to take some time. But with my wit and charms, and your brute strength, it won't be that difficult."

"You are forgetting I do not wish to leave. My employer resides here, I am honor bound to obey."

"You're forgetting I don't give two flying fucks about your stupid employer. I'm not leaving this place without you. It's your choice if you're going to help me or not, but without your help this is going to be harder. I don't know how well I can forcefully drag a hundred-something pound ghoul."

I get sick of sitting, so I walk over to the bars and lean on them. The coolness brings comfort to my sore face. I can feel where Charon hit me. Left cheek, right near my scars. It throbs and hurts, but nothing is broken. I'll probably get a nasty bruise, but it'll pass. I can't be mad at him for it. I don't have the energy to.

"Why?"

I hear him ask, the question echoing down the halls.

"Why what?"

"Why does it matter so much to you, if I join you or not?"

Sighing, I close my eye as I press my forehead against the bars. Letting my arms slide through them, I find a comfortable position to stand in.

"Because forever and a day ago, I mattered just the same to you."

"It is confounding, how one can get attached to such lies."  
"If you think I'm lying then why did you help me escape? Why didn't you just kill me like you were ordered?"

I challenge him. I want to. I have to.  
"…I do not know. I cannot explain it."

"Alright then. You disobeyed Ahzrukhal, I don't care if you remember that or not. If you did it once, you can do it again. Thing is, I had to get you from Ahzrukhal…"

A light goes on in my head that wasn't there before. How could I be so stupid? I'm stupid sometimes, I really am. That's it. That's been the answer all along. I'm so oblivious to the obvious I swear I'd lose my head if it wasn't screwed to my neck.

"Hm."

Charon says nonchalantly in the background of my working mind.

"What if I got your contract?"

I ask him, a dangerous tone to my voice.

"Then you would be my employer, and I would do as you command."

"Even remember me?"

"We have never met. I could, perhaps, lie."

"No, no you would remember because it would be an _order_. I know this. I know how this works, Charon we've _been_ in this situation before."

"What are you talking about?"

I turn around quickly, a mixture of excitement and frustration fueling me.

"Charon, listen to me. When the Talons caught you, Clifton, you didn't want to hurt me. You _didn't_."

I point to the scar on my neck as I advance towards him.

"And _everyday_ after you gave me this you hated yourself for it! When the Talons came _back_ you obeyed but found a loophole. _I_ escaped because _you_ let me. I got you off guard, with that stupid combat knife of yours, but it wasn't a bad injury, Charon. You could have killed me, or even chased me, but you _didn't_. This is no different. I got your contract back from Jabsco, I can get it back from Casdin."

He looks at me like I have six heads. Actually, he's looking at the scar on my neck. The old welt that never really seemed to go away. I can tell he's analyzing it, as if he's trying to remember something, anything.

"If that is what you wish. I must let you know, that I would not be pleased with serving you. My skills are best suited to people in high-military rank. Not spoiled, foolish, little girls."

I have to sigh and give him a smirk. Forever ago, he said those same things. Kind of. Just before I admitted to him that _I_ was the girl from Vault 101. It's funny, sometimes, how history can repeat itself so often in one's life.

"Yeah, you made that very clear the first time we met."

He glares at me, but I can tell his anger is just for show.

"Your lies annoy me. For now, I'm exhausted. I presume it is late and I have had a horrible night. Go to the other side of the cell and leave me alone. Perhaps tomorrow will not be as torturous."

He gets up to lie down on the floor, back facing me, fetal position. I wait a few seconds, before turning my smirk into a smile, and kneeling down behind him.

"No, no I'd rather stay here."

I whisper in his ear, or lack thereof. Wrapping my left arm around his waist, I position myself against his back. In the past, our roles would be reversed. For now, for tonight, I think I can call myself 'The Ladle'.

"What are you doing?"

Charon snaps, more curious than angry. Even with his stupid, brainwashed self, I can still read him like a book. Sometimes.

"You used to say this was the safest place for me to be. If anything happens, I hope to prove that."

Closing my eyes, I bury my face into his back. I squeeze him a bit tighter than I should. It doesn't matter to me, really. What he thinks, anyways. For tonight, I can pretend he is still the man I fell in love with. The man who saves me, comforts me, holds me, laughs with me, and when I cry, kills whomever made me do it. He doesn't say anything for a while, and I take his silence as acceptance. Charon. I miss you.


	60. Be Aware It's Just Your Mind

(Charon)

"Wake up! Wake now!"

Noise from behind the bars causes me to rise quickly. My body is stiff, angry from the sleep on the concrete flooring. Before I can recall the events of the previous night, I feel a weight, a bundle, pressed against me. It causes me difficulty, in rising in time, yet I manage. I push the bundle off of my back, and turn to face the bars. Glancing down, I notice that it is the girl. Yes. Last night comes back to me. So. She had decided to stay beside me…I see.

"Is the girl awake?"

Looking up, I notice two Knights standing more than an arm's length away from the bars. They are taking precautions as if someone will do something. Without answering them, I glance back down at the girl. No, no she is not awake. She sleeps, peaceful. Her hair, has fallen from her ponytail slightly, and strands of loose hair decorate her face. It causes my stomach to churn, but I pass it off and kid myself with the idea that I am simply hungry.

"Ghoul, _is she awake_?"

The Knight asks me once more, growing impatient.

"No. She is not."

I reply, my voice steady and calm.

"Wake her then."

How? I have never had to rouse anyone from a slumber. Do I nudge her gently? Do I forcefully kick her? Do I bend down and ask her to wake? I do not know. I choose to nudge her gently with my foot. It keeps me from having to speak with her.

"No!"

She groans, in her sleep, rolling from me. It brings slight amusement, to see this unfold. She is unaware of the dangers that lie in front of her, only concerned with a few mere moments of rest.

"Wake up."

I growl, nudging her with my foot a bit harder. This time, her eyes snap open, and seemingly upon reflex, she rolls over to face me.

"Charon?"

The way she says my name, it brings a shudder to my spine. Ignoring the sensation, I fold my arms in front of myself.

"She is awake."

I tell the Knight, and he opens the door to the cell.

"Casdin wishes you to remain in here and to not interfere with our plans. If you do not believe me, he claims he will come down himself."

"I believe you."

I tell the Knight. I have no desire to interfere with whatever they decide to do to the girl. It is none of my concern. If my employer wishes me to stay here until he is ready for me, so be it. As long as death is not in my future, I can patiently wait. I have a lifetime to wait.

"Girl! Come here!"

The Knight's loud and muffled voice irks me as it echoes down the halls. I do not like being barked at upon awaking. It reminds me of my training, and brings anger to my mind. My face slightly twitches in impatience and annoyance, as I glance down at the girl. Still in her sleepy daze, she looks up at me. Her eyes, glazed over, coming out of a world not quite reality. She stares up at me, her lips swollen from sleep, looking plumper and rounder, her mind slowly regaining itself, as the Knight impatiently taps his armored foot. As I look down at her, I cannot quite describe what it is I feel. It is a warm, tender feelings. My knowledge of such things, from books I have read, applies this feeling to…to pictures.

I see pictures of a mother, holding a small child. They are both laughing, smiling, dressed in pre-war garb and getup. It is a cartoonish picture, illustrated in a book. Which book I cannot remember, and as I try to think of it, another image comes to mind. The French philosopher, Voltaire. His image, along with an old poem, comes forward with this feeling. I have only ever seen his ancient portrait in books among shelves of one of my employer, but still, the picture and poem fit perfectly, with this feeling. This feeling that surges, as she looks up at me, with her doleful eyes.

"Girl!"

The Knight's sharp, impatient, crackled voice breaks me from my moment of concentration. I look up at him, angry, that he has broken something I had been trying so hard to place. He takes a step back, seeing the look on my face.

"Charon?"

The girl says softly, as she moves to pick herself up from the ground. As much as I wish to sit, and ask her why these feelings arise in me, I do not. It is not my place, my employer would not like it, and I suspect she would perhaps, lie to me in the end.

"Get up and go with him. His obnoxious ranting has been giving me a headache."

I tell her, bending down and grabbing her arm. She does not protest, as I lift her to her feet. It seems as if she has finally woken herself up, but as I let go of her arm, she gives me a look that would break my heart if I cared enough to have one.

"Where's he taking me?"

The girl asks, walking towards the bars. I shrug my shoulders, signifying I do not care enough to respond. She accepts this as a suitable answer, and stands in front of the bars as the Knight opens them. He grabs her forcefully, checking for weapons and other such paraphernalia.

"Where are we going?"

She asks the Knight, a bit more forcefully than she did me. The Knight doesn't answer, and a small struggle begins as he tries to pry her away. The struggle, her trying to get her arm free, the Knight holding fast to her upper arm. The second Knight begins to intervene, grabbing her from behind. I watch, as they finally subdue the girl, and begin to drag her down the hall. She still tries to escape, kicking her feet, as she vanishes.

The sight reminds me of my own time spent in a facility similar to this. Back when I was younger, much younger. We were kept in rooms, with beds lined against the walls. Cots, really. It was I, along with ten other boys my age. We would not dare move, even when our trainers would lock the only door in or out for the night. Paralyzed by fear, fear of punishment and the pain it brings, our quivered breathing would be the only noise aside from the creaking of the building. A single, barred, plexi-glass window was our only light. The moon would shine in from this window, creating a stream of light down at the foot of our beds. Some nights, it was beautiful and peaceful, others, terrifying.

On one particular night, I witnessed what happens, when one tries to escape. A boy beside me, to my left, felt rebellious.

"What are you doing?"

I asked, my pre-pubescent voice high-pitched and full of fear. He was climbing from his bed, while I was still terrified of even sitting up. To my right was Argyle, and even he knew the dangers and did not dare move to view what was going on. But I felt his eyes on me, as I turned my head to face the boy escaping.

"I'm getting out."

The boy asked. I never knew his name, never cared to ask. I did not even know Argyle's name at the time. We did not have names, just numbers. Argyle, like me, received his name later on in training. But I knew it was him, as we laid frozen in our small, cold cots.

"You can't. They'll catch you."

I whispered to the boy, hoping he would hear the fear in my voice and choose to stay. He did not. He walked over to the barred window, a metal leg from his cot in hand. All of us sat up, filled with fear, with excitement. If he could break the window, we could all climb out, run, be free. Not knowing where to go or whom to speak with did not matter back then. In that facility they had taken all from us, taken everything and gave us nothing but pain in return. I knew, nothing anyone could ever do to hurt me, could compare to that.

"Don't!"

I hissed, before the boy raised the metal leg and began forcefully beating the window, the bars. When the leg hit the bars, it made a loud, metallic clank. When it connected with the plastic window, it made a muffled bang. Not long after his tirade had begun, it was put to an end. We all laid back down, holding our breaths, as the noise of the door unlocking surpassed that of the boy's attack on the window.

"What's going on?"

The loud voice of our commander put more fear inside of us than anything else in the world. We froze, frightened, our eyes fixated on the concrete ceiling above. But the boy, the one beating the window, did not stop. Our commander entered the room, his footsteps heavy, loud, as he made his way to the boy.

"Stop that this instant!"

He commanded, and we anticipated silence.

"No!"

His protest made everyone freeze in disbelief. The noise continued, and slowly, one by one, we all sat up to watch the spectacle. Watch, as our commander lost his seat of power. For a moment, that is. Eventually, he grabbed the boy. He attempted to pry the metal bar from his hand, take him, and lead him to the place no one returns from. But it was not that simple. The boy fought, yielding that bar as if it was the most powerful weapon in the world. We all watched, as the struggle continued, as eventually the boy lost his weapon.

He did not give up. Two more officers entered the room, and helped the commander take the boy out. We could hear his protests as he left, hear them through the locked door that kept us in, hear them, until they vanished forever. No one ever saw that boy again, no one ever spoke of him. But the next day, those of us who were in that room were punished severely. As if our superiors were trying to prove a point. Trying, to make sure no one ever tried to escape again. As far as I was aware, no one ever did.

This room, cell, reminds me of that time. Time spent there, the hell on earth. In a sense, I am thankful for the training I received there. I would not have survived as long as I have without it. However, on a different note, I would also not been able to survive the war, had I been given a normal life. Two hundred years is a long time, for one to live. I have lived that and more. I have seen things, things that would make even the bravest of men flinch with fear. I have mixed emotions, about my time spent alive for so long. I do not sit a await death, but I also would not fight it, if I were ever in the position.

Running my fingers along the cool, damp walls of this cell, I am reminded of where I am. I no longer reside in the training facility, no longer am I fearful of a self-inflicting wound or act of punishment. My current employer has not done harm against me, nor made me harm myself. I do not fear him, I simply fear failing my contract. When in training, we were taught that with failure came pain, punishment, hurt. Inside, I feel the old pain from them when I fail at tasks. When I cannot complete something, due to powers beyond my control, I still feel the guilt inside, welling up.

Yet I did not feel that guilt when I helped that girl escape. Her name? Her name…is Dezbe, yes. Quite the odd, peculiar name. Either way, I did not feel that guilt, when I disobeyed the order to kill her. Nor did I feel it as I carried her body back to her room, a place my employer told me I was forbidden to return to. It did not even strike me, as I was leading her out of the property. As if for that moment, for that girl, my training and instincts subsided. I can not imagine how that is possible, but it seemingly is. When I aided her, I felt I was doing what was right, what I was _meant_ to do. Not taking orders, or obeying someone of higher rank and class, but simply helping this girl do something so miniscule, so…unimportant.

No. Shaking my head I sit down on the old bench against the wall. I was born and bred to do this job. To serve an employer, of military rank, and to produce inarguable outcomes with my tasks at hand. I am to execute my orders with precise perfection and exactly as my employer requests them. I am built for survival, for war, for fighting and for protection. I am to protect and obey my employer at all costs. It is in my blood, what I was made to do, what I will do.

But, that _girl_. That girl who bides her time with me by spilling out stories of 'us' as if we had ever met. Who annoys me by simply standing within my personal space, or even in the same _room_ as I. Who cannot seem to grasp that the world does not revolve around her, nor is she of any importance to this world. Her death would not make many mourn, if any. I fail to see her importance to anyone. Yet…she is also that girl who touches me. That girl who reaches towards me, and looks into my eyes. Who at night, when dreams cause her to shiver at shake, mutters my name in a way people near death would pray to whatever god they believe in. The girl who talks to me, as a person, and not as a monster or perhaps inferior. She, unlike any other, comes to me when she is in need of comfort, of someone to speak with. She slept beside me last night, her arms tightly wrapped around my waist. In my ear, she whispered that I once told her the safest place for her was beside me, perhaps even in my arms. No, what nonsense. I have never spoken such things. Although, I will not deny that it may be true. I am built for killing, for protecting, she is right. But I was not built to protect or kill for her. And yet…she kissed me. Kissed me without hesitation. I do not know why she did, and will ignore the feelings of slight pleasure that it brought me. All I am allowing myself to be aware of, is that she kissed me, no more, no less.

I do wonder, where the guards have taken her. When I see someone being dragged away, I assume they are never returning. It is what I was used to seeing in the compound. I cannot think of any reason as to why here, it would be different. They might kill her, they might not. Her return is not of great importance to me. So why is it that I am still thinking of her? Why even when she is absent, does my mind wander to her memory?

Sighing I look around the cell that I am confined in until further notice. There is no door, no window, simply the bars set in front of me. Across from them, the hall, and another equally as long cell. It is quiet, and I enjoy that. The silence. It is not easy to come by here in the Capital Wasteland. Silence I mean. My boots make a shuffling noise, as I shift them further apart to comfortably fit my elbows on my thighs. There is no comfortable place to rest in here.

Sleeping on the floor proved quite uncomfortable, yet for some reason, I slept quite soundly. What has been troubling me lately in my sleep, that did not come last night for whatever reasoning, are my dreams. Each time I drift off, even if it is just for a moment, I am taken to some place that no longer exists, or even possibly ever existed. Fields of luscious green grass invade me, the sunlight is so bright I nearly need to shut my eyes to it. The warm feel of spring leaving and summer beginning is so intense, it brings shudders to my skin.

Yes, skin, for in my dreams I am human. I have no clue as to why this is, but I am. The scenery itself is breathtaking to me, but yet knowing I am human, and feeling the touch of my own, smooth skin is even more astounding. I am also there with a woman. I feel as if I know her, and the emotions I feel as she walks towards me are so powerful, I cannot properly describe them. She wears the same dress in each dream. Tight-fitting, white with print, a halter-style pre-war dress. She wears no shoes. Her hair is long, vibrant browns and reds, and her skin is often sun-kissed with a faint tan. The girl is often smiling at me, as she comes near, and I notice freckles on her nose and cheeks.

I know this girl, I know I do, but I cannot figure as to where we have met. She takes my hands in hers, kisses me with her plump lips, and each time parts with a sigh, as if she does not want to leave. In each dream, she begs me never to leave her, and in each dream I stare blankly at her. Wondering, why this girl whom I cannot seem to remember, needs my presence so much. When I stand before her and say nothing, her eyes fill with tears, as the dream vanishes. In some of them, I open my eyes to the image of her atop me, or below me, as we commit the sin of lust. I have never been allowed to have sex in my waking life, nor have ever dreamed of it before. Why I am now, is confusing and bothering me.

I wonder who this girl is. This girl in my dreams who seems to need me so, who I have never before encountered, yet who drives me wild in my mind. I wonder if I would recognize her, if I were to ever encounter her in real life. No, no I do not believe that is possible. Perhaps my mind is changing, after so many years, and the need and want to reproduce is so defiant that my mind is creating scenarios in which that would be possible. That seems logical, yes. To rid myself of them, I suppose I have to remind myself I am sterile, and the ability to pass my traits on to another generation is impossible. Perhaps, hopefully, that will bring me comfort in my sleep.


	61. You're Already the Voice Inside My Head

The girl does not return for what seems like many hours. With no way to tell time, I am unsure of how long she has been absent. Not that it matters much to me, I have quite enjoyed the silence. Yet when she does return, I can hear her from the beginning of the corridor. Quieter than when she left, the girl protests, and the noise of something being dragged muffles out her words. I can still hear her voice, just not what she is saying.

As she draws closer, the noise of two sets of footsteps comes with. I expect it to be hers, and a Knight that is accompanying her. When they come into my view from the right side of the wall where the bars begin, I see that I am mistaken. It is not her and another Knight, it is her being dragged by the elbows, by two Knights. I make no movement, as I sit on the bench, carefully watching the scene.

Her legs drag behind her, her head hands, her arms above her as they easily pull her light weight. They do not respond to her muffled curse words and snarls, rather they ignore her, as they open the cell door.

"Get in there."

One of the Knights says to her, as they shove her inside. It is apparent to me she cannot hold her own weight. A part of me wants to walk over, and help her as she struggles against the floor to and, but my logical side prevents me from doing so. I sit, feeling it is the better of the two options, as the Knights slam the door with no word to me. They walk off, laughing together like they have just seen some form of divine comedy. It angers me slightly, for some reason.

"Charon…"

I hear the girl call my name, and shift my gaze over to her. What I see, is pitiful. She lies on the floor, her hands shakily supporting her arms as she struggles to sit up. Her face is drenched in a cold sweat, her hair matted to her forehead. The girl's eyes are wild, frightened I believe. Her whole body quivers a bit, but I make no motion to get up and help her.

"What?"

I snap, impatient, not wanting this pitiful girl to speak with me.

"Charon…help me…"

"You are not my employer."

I look away because I can not stand to see such a sight. The sound of skin sliding across the floor tells me that her body has reached its limit, that it could no longer support her own weight. I hear the shuffling of her legs against the floor, and hear something I never thought I ever would. A muffled sob. It pokes at my curiosity, and I look back over at her.

Her head is curled up into her arm, her legs tucked beneath her. She shakes a bit more than she once was, and the noise of her sobbing makes me…angry. I am not sure what form of anger this is. I cannot seem to describe it. It is powerful, yet I am not angry at her. Instead, I wish to stand and ask her what it is that makes her so distraught. Again, I remain seated. She continues to cry. I have never been in this situation before.

"They…they…"

She manages to choke out, in between sobs.

"I cannot hear you."

I tell her, which is true. Her obnoxious crying and with her face tucked into her arm, I can easily mistake her for a wounded Molerat. Carefully, I watch as she struggles to lift her head, and rest it in the crook of her elbow.

"They took my blood."

The one, short, sentence exhausts her. I roll my eyes, not responding.

"They took so much. They…said it was for…I don't remember…they…told me you weren't ever going…to remember…"

What? She spoke of me to them? Perhaps my employer was there.

"What did you say of me? Was my employer there?"

Her eyes meet mine, and even though the room is dim, they pierce right through me. A part of me wants her to turn on her light, so that her eyes are not so haunting.

"Yeah…he said…you'd never remember me but…but I'm still gonna try…"

She is not making any sense. I try once more to ask.

"What did he _say_?"

I am hoping that perhaps he mentioned to this girl that I am to be released shortly. I feel as if I am failing my duties, by staying in this cell, even though it is a direct order.

"That…you were_ never_ going to remember me…that I need to stop…trying because _he_ made sure you'd never remember."

"I never met you. How could I remember someone I have never met? Is that all my employer said?"

She gives me a sad, slow nod with her head. Sighing, I shake my head and look away from her. Pitiful being. I have had my blood drawn many times, by my trainers, and would have been brutally beaten and punished had I acted like she is acting.

"I can still try."

She mumbles, resting her head on the cool concrete. For some reason, I do not wish for her to fall asleep. She looks pale, and although I am not tied to this girl by any means, something inside of me does not want too much harm to come to her. Standing, I slowly walk over. Her eyes are closed, her breathing is shallow. I notice a piece of small gauze wrapped around the inside of her right elbow. Another piece of gauze is on her left as well. She makes no movement at my presence, and I bend down.

Clammy. Her face is very cold, her arms are as well. Her breathing is shallow, and I lightly pinch her arm. Four seconds pass, before she groans in pain. Her head lifting, her eyes slits, she scowls at me.

"Let…me sleep!"

She hisses, trying to take her arm from my grip. It is a pitiful attempt, and an even more pitiful failure. Just by looking at her, I know the cause of these symptoms.

"Do not go to sleep."

As much as it is against my will, I feel this part coming naturally. Not because of my training, but because of something more. The girl groans, but I ignore her cries, as I lift her limp body. She is lighter than I remember her being, perhaps because she is cooperating with me, and distributing her weight. I bring her to the bench, and lie her down flat on her back. She looks up at me, her eyes glazed as if in some form of trance.

"Charon…"

She says, her chest moving up and down rapidly. I presume they took too much of her blood, perhaps somewhere around thirty to forty percent. Had they taken any more, she would not have survived. What they may need with her blood in such large amounts is unknown to me, and in reality I do not care enough to ask. For some odd reason, I just care about keeping her alive.

"Stay with me. Tell me your name."

I say as I begin to rub her arms. I feel like a caveman, trying to create fire with two sticks. It is what I need to do. Bring warmth to her body. Her heart is struggling to refill the capillaries, I do not want her sleeping, and having her die.

"Dezbe…"

"And how old are you…Dezbe?"

Her name sounds strange on my lips. This is the first time I have called her by name, to her face. I did not want to. Knowing names of people, brings you closer to them, which is why we had numbers in my facility, until our very last day.

"Twenty…twenty-six almost…"

Twenty-_six_? She could easily pass for sixteen. Not that age has a requirement here in the Capital Wasteland, but her young features do make her look much more inexperienced.

"Where do you come from?"

"Vault…101…"

I place pressure on her chest, feeling her heart and trying to slow her rapid breathing. Her heart beats against my hands. I have never been this close to another before.

"Your mother and father, what are their names?"

"Ca…Catherine and J-James…I'm an…orphan now…"

I stop my hands from continuing. I look at her, and she looks at me. A sad, small smile emits over her face. A weak hand reaches up, and grazes my cheek.

"Dead mother, life in a post-nuclear Wasteland and not a friend in it…yeah…I'm not exactly blessed."

She says to me, and I cannot move. I feel frozen here, as I kneel beside her, my hands still resting on her chest. The small, sadistic smile is still on her face, as she stares at me with her head resting on the bench. Her hand still rests on my cheek, and I feel her thumb beginning to stroke. She feels the areas where old skin clings on for dear life, where muscle and veins have replaced normalcy. She does not flinch at it.

"It's funny…how everyone I get…close to leaves somehow…"

She says, her eyes burning into mine. What does she mean by that? Moreover, what is it that I am to take from it? Her hand is cold, freezing against my hot face. For me it is refreshing, for her I am sure it is not.

"I am sure somewhere, you have friends."

I say, in a rare act of reassurance. Moving my head, her hand falls onto the bench, and I resume my project of getting her blood flowing properly.

"I…have Gob…he thinks we're dead…and I had you."

"Stop implying we met."

I tell her through clenched teeth. Nothing is keeping me from letting her die. She should keep her mouth shut, before I stop this, and let her shake and shudder into the night. If it is not already night. No matter what she says, does, or claims to know about me, I am sure and confident that we have _never_ met. Surely I would remember this girl, she is not one to be easily forgotten. With her insane qualities and irrational tendencies and whatnot.

"I'm not…implying anything…just stating."

I take my hands from her, enraged, frustrated, and downright annoyed at her dumb accusations. I go to stand up, to walk away from her, and hopefully never speak with her again. Or at least until the end of my stay here. Then, my employer perhaps will order me to do away with this girl, and this time, I will not disobey. Turning my back, I start to move from her. When…something stops me. A light tug on my wrist, soft, cool, it sends a shudder from the point of contact, down my arm, up my spine, and straight to my head. It makes me dizzy, as I turn to see the girl holding fast to my wrist.

I feel stiff. Frozen, as if I could not move, even if I wanted to. The hold she has on me is light, but with just enough force and pressure to tell me that she wants me to stay in the worst possible way. Her eyes are filled with an emotion that I cannot bring myself to describe. She does not speak, but there is no need to, as I turn my body around to face her. What makes me do these things, I do not know. What makes being with this girl so pleasurable, so enjoyable, yet so frustrating…I do not know. All I do know is right now, at this moment in time, I do not wish to be anywhere else but beside her.

Struggling, she sits up. Her free arm clutches her stomach, as she forces her body to move. I want to tell her to sit back, lie down and rest, but I do not. I stand before her, my arm in front of me as she holds my wrist, and watch as she looks up at me. Her hair is spread wildly over her face, and through it I can see her eyes. They pierce through me, and make my dead heart beat for the first time in two hundred years.

"Stay."

She whispers, like a child would plead with their mother when injured. An orphan, I remind myself. She is an orphan, and as am I.

"How did your mother die?"

I ask her, whispering as if there are people listening. She looks at me, there is no sad, sadistic smile. There is nothing upon her face that I can read.

"She died giving birth to me. My father died…in the Jefferson Memorial. Where they had Project Purity. He was shot, by Colonel Augustus Autumn. I saw it happen."

Of the Enclave? This girl has crossed paths with the Enclave? No, impossible. What would they want with such an insignificant human being? Kneeling beside her, I decide to figure out her importance to others in this world.

"Project Purity was a cause given up on years ago."

I state, and the girl smiles, sighing.

"No, no it's finished now. My father he…sacrificed himself for it. He gave me up for it. There's pure water everywhere now, Charon, didn't you know?"

"Yes, I was aware of that. What I was not aware of is the part you're claiming to play in it."

"Ever hear Three Dog?"

I nod my head, and she smirks.

"I'm a True Mortal, he says. I'm that gallivanting gal from Vault 101, hell bent to destroy humanity at first, then reluctantly save it. Project Purity took everything from me. My mother, my father, my safety in the vault. It took away my freedom out here, for such a long time. I hated it. I'm glad I have nothing to do with it anymore."

I have heard of her, yes. But snippets and voices only, and very long ago.

"It was six years ago, when all that shit went down. When I went to Vault 87 to get the G.E.C.K and was taken away by the Enclave. You're going to get mad at me for saying this, but you and Fawks helped me out of there. Out of that situation."

Fawks? I do not know a Fawks, nor do I ever remember going to Raven Rock and rescuing a simple girl from the Enclave. Nor, would I ever want to. Sighing, I decide it is best not to argue with her. I want to, which is why I am so confused as to why I do not. Perhaps, though, it is best that I just sit with her.

"What was the purpose of retrieving the G.E.C.K?"

I ask, mildly interested. If this girl aided in bringing pure water to the Capital Wasteland, then perhaps she is not all that insignificant after all.

"It would have helped start the Purifier. But, when the Enclave got it, they realized that the Purifier needed a password. They didn't have that. I did."

"The password?"

"Yeah. I had it. All along."

"What was it?"

The girl looks at me, smiling slightly. Her eyes glass over as if she is remembering something fond, and comforting. A part of me envies her, for having such memories to return to.

"I am Alpha and Omega. The beginning, and the end. I will give unto him, that is athirst from the fountains of the waters of life freely. Revelation 21:6. My mother's favorite passage. Two, one, six."

"The King James Bible."

"Yeah."

She still has not let my wrist go, even though I show no signs of leaving her side. Her story, entrances me in a way that I have never felt before. I am genuinely interested in this person, this girl, this Dez.

"When my father died, we returned to Megaton."

"We?"

I ask, curious as to who was with her.

"We. When we got there…that was it. I couldn't handle the pressure. The having to get the G.E.C.K, the Brotherhood, the death of my father, the sudden realization that I was now an orphan. At nineteen, I was taken from the only world I knew, the vault, and tossed into this world. I lost my home, my father, my friends, everything within a matter of months. I broke down. I cried for the first time."

"And what happened?"

Tears, small ones, arise in her eyes. She tightens her hold on my wrist, as if it comforts her.

"You were there. You held me, while I cried and wailed. You kept things all calm, all steady, reassuring me everything in time would work. It was the most important night of my life, because it changed everything."

I push aside her mentioning of me, now deeply interested. Perhaps it is the way she speaks, the way she tells me her story, that keeps my interest, that causes the blood to rush inside.

"What did it change?"

"It changed us. Me and you. Before that night, we were nothing more than employer and employee. A love/hate relationship, with no real dependency on either end. But after that night…I knew I cared about you, more than I did anyone else in my life. You had saved my life countless times before then, but in Megaton on a filthy mattress, you really saved me, for the first time."

I stare at her, blank. What am I to do with this? She spoke so deep, so personal, as if she had meant every word. I felt as if I was inside of her, hanging on each and every word. Her and I, alone in Megaton? If this night is of such great importance to her, then why do I not recall it? If I had truly saved someone in such a meaningful and important way, then would I not remember it?

"You know what you said once?"

She whispers, breaking my thoughts. I look down at her, at the serene look she now has upon her face. Her free hand raises up, and gently touches the welt on her neck. When I look at that welt, something shifts. I become angry, and ridden with guilt. The pit in my stomach returns, and I feel sick. I do not like it, so I turn away.

"What did I say?"

Her tales are so detailed and personal, I feel that perhaps, maybe, it might be true.

"We were in the desert one night. On our way to Rivet City to get my dad, when he was still alive anyways. It was just after this scar. After you caused it. You felt bad, I guess, I don't know. You told me then and there, that you'd never hurt me again. That you wouldn't take an order right away, and give me time to escape. I remember that night, because it rang true. For the most part, you never _did_ take an order to hurt me. You always let me win. You always kept me safe."

She ends it like that. I've always kept her safe? No, no I do not recall any of this. Yet…the way she speaks it, the way it flows from her lips, there's no way I can figure it can be a lie. No one has that much attachment to someone they have never met. This girl, claimed to love me the other night. Love, is a powerful emotion, something I have only seen in books and highly doubt the existence of.

But as I look at her, her half-closed eyes, her now shallow breathing, and feel her skin warming as she holds tight to my wrist, something in my accepts it. Accepts that somehow, this being, this girl who seems to have been through so much, holds something for me. It may be that in this situation, she views me as the only voice of reason, or that perhaps somehow, we did encounter, and these events did take place. Whatever she has for me, wherever it comes from, I find does not matter. Knowing someone enjoys simply holding my wrist and sitting beside me, is enough for me to feel human.

"Charon?"

Her voice is mesmerizing. I do not know how or why, but the way she says my name, the way it leaks from her plump lips, sends a shudder of electricity down my spine.

"Yes?"

I reply in my monotone voice. Her hand tightens around my wrist, my knees stiffen uncomfortably, but I do not move.

"I remember when we first kissed. _Really_, kissed."

Kissed? What? No, no I do not believe that. She can halfway convince me of the safety I could have brought her, of the protection that came with my services, that perhaps we did once meet and I simply do not remember. But kissing? It is against my contract to feel urges such at those. It would be near impossible for me to even kiss another ghoul without proper orders. That, I cannot, and will not believe.

"No, you are lying of that."

"It was after Greta."

Greta. She speaks of her, and it brings pain. Not for Greta, but for something else. I cannot place it.

"What do you mean?"

"I caught you with Greta. We had an…odd relationship, Charon. I liked you, you liked me, both of us didn't want to admit it. But you really kissed me then, that night in Underworld. After something happened with Greta, you made it better. You chased me then, too you know. We kissed. It was nice."

I stare at her in disbelief. No, no I would never do such a thing. Her, on the other hand, would. She has kissed me in the past, as we know, and she would most likely again. Nothing is stopping her from making up lies that her and I kissed in the past as well.

"I'm tired, Charon…"

Her voice, although barely a whisper, echoes down the halls. I blink slowly, too many thoughts and questions racing in my mind at once. I have to remind myself of my training. Remind myself that thoughts and questions like these could get me in trouble.

"Then perhaps you should rest."

A small chuckle emits from her throat. She closes her eyes, holding my hand now. I make the connection in my mind. This girl, Dezbe, reminds me of the nameless boy who fought against my commander. It will kill her, I am sure of it.

"I am. Will you stay?"

"I cannot leave."

I state, obvious.

"No, will you stay here, with me? Will you lie with me?"

"Two bodies cannot fit on this bench."

"Then let me lie on the floor."

"It will be too cold for you, you need warmth right now."

She sighs, sad it seems. I speak, before I am able to think.

"But I will sit beside you until morning. Whatever time it may be now, rest. I will be here, when you wake."

A smile creeps on her lips, and before she falls asleep, she says one last thing.

"You always have been."


	62. Moonlight With No Moon

I am in a dreamless slumber, when I first hear it. Not the sounds of Knights yelling, not the noises that the old building makes. No. No, it is something else, something different, that rouses me from my deep and needed sleep. Something soft, in the dead of night, and gentle. It breaks into my blackened mind, and echoes within my head. Sweet, soft, I am reminded of tender feelings. Ones I have never felt myself, but have read and learned about in different studies. I enjoy the sound, so much in fact, that I wish to not wake. I feel it is a dream, a soft, quiet dream, that my mind has permitted me to have. Yet against my own personal will, I open my eyes.

There is no light, and I am unsure of the time. I do know that it is quite late, or quite early. The girl's Pip-Boy light is off, which creates the illusion that this place is open, wide, without bars and confinement. Yet through the dark, I see it. I see the source of this sound that woke me, the sound that was not simply a dream. It reflects in my eyes, and I resist the unnatural and strange urge to touch it. The girl, her eyes, they glow at night.

"Charon…"

She whispers once more, as my body begins to come to life. The aches and pains of falling asleep kneeling hold no bar on me, as I lift my head from my arm where I had tucked it. I feel her hand still clenching mine, I can see her eyes are watery, even in this black setting.

"Yes?"

I whisper in reply, as if we are doing something wrong. As if I have returned to my training facility, and the two of us have crept out of our beds to speak with one another. Quickly, I remind myself that is not true, and there is no point in our whispering.

"I had a bad dream."

She is cold to the touch. Her hand is only warm because it resides in my own. Lifting my free hand, I am able to feel her other arm. I am worried about this girl, I find, and I do not even know her. She, does not even know me. It is against my contract. I must keep telling myself this.

"What was it about?"

We still whisper, and I am genuinely concerned. She shudders, her teeth chatter, and she pulls me close to her.

"Just hold me and tell me it wasn't real."

Her body fits with mine. I do not know what do to, or where to put my arms, as she climbs down from the bench and folds herself into me, on top of my lap. Do I hold her? If so, how? What is this? Is this natural, or is this against all I have been trained to do? I stiffen up instead, as her arms wrap around my waist for support, and she buries her head into my chest. I feel something. It is strange, yet familiar. All of a sudden, I feel protective of her.

"It…was not real."

I mutter, still unsure as to what I am supposed to do. She is not my employer, so why am I granting her requests? Her arms tighten around my waist, and I can feel how cold her body is through my armor. I am aware, that if I do not do something, she could very well be in a dire situation. My employer, will not help her. I am sure of that.

Yet why am I so keen to? What is making me feel these strange, and unknown things towards this girl? First helping her escape, and now taking part in whether she lives or dies. I cannot stand this girl, this being. Cannot stand her stories and lies of which I am the base of. So why, does it matter? I do not know. I cannot answer.

"Charon…"

She whispers once more, muffled by my armor.

"Yes? What is it?"

"Hold me, please."

I lift my arms, awkwardly, and wrap them around her back. Once I touch her, it all feels right. I am unsure of how to word it, exactly. It just comes together, as if this was supposed to happen. I cannot explain how I know this, I simply just do. As if this motion and incident could have happened before. As if at one point in my life, I had held her close to me. No, no that is impossible. No person has ever gotten this close to me. That is, except, her.

"I am."

I state, trying to warm her body with my own. I lift her slightly, to unfold my cramped legs. Placing her on top of my thighs, I bring my knees to her back. I cradle her, as a mother would a newborn. She begins to shake, quiver, and it is not out of cold, no. Glancing down at her, I realize she is crying. Why?

"What is wrong?"

I ask her, wanting to express concern, but not knowing how or if it is right.

"Just tell me it's okay. Tell me it'll _be_ okay. Tell me we'll make it through this."

I do not know what to say. She states it as if she wants to escape _with_ me. As if we are going to leave this place in one piece. She may leave, if she is able to, but I am to stay with my employer. I am honor-bound to do as he commands. There is no chance of me escaping with her. For now, I do not tell her this. She is fragile, and I have never felt this feeling before.

"It is okay."

I tell her, as she buries her head into my leather armor. Her sobs are quieted by my chest, her quivering and quaking slowed by my arms around her. This…this is all new to me. As new as it all feels, at the same time, I feel comfortable with this. Almost like I have done this. I have felt this way before, have held this girl, not any girl but _this_ girl, in my arms just as I am now. It is all nonsense, I figure, brought on by her countless ranting and raving and lunacy. We do not know one another, we have never met, this is her trickery.

If that is all true, that we have not met, and somehow she is manipulating me, then how is she creating these feelings within me? I have never, in my entire life, felt anything more than anger, frustration, and annoyance. With her, it is entirely different. I feel new, awaken, close, protective. I suppose those are the best words I can use to describe all of this.

"Charon? Please, please don't let them take me away again."

"How do you know they will?"

"They told me. Charon, Charon _please_ don't let them…"

I say nothing. I do not agree, I do not disagree. I simply hold her, trying to calm her in my own, effortless way. I cannot agree, I cannot disagree, this is not part of my contract, this is against it. So why, may I ask, am I doing it?

At some point, I drift off into sleep. I do not know when, or even how, with the girl's positioning on me. But it happens, and I find myself opening my eyes. The light is the same as it has been for however many days I have been here. Dim, ill-lit, foreboding. My eyes adjust to it, it does not take long, as I scan the cell. The girl is still atop me, her short breaths telling me she is sleeping peacefully. My arms, are still delicately wrapped around her. I do not know why this creates warmth within my chest.

"Well, what do we have here?"

The voice of my employer causes me to snap to attention. All thought on the girl is stopped. My mind, wiped clean as if it were nothing more than a school chalk board. I avert my eyes, my attention, to him. He stands behind the bars, his armor shined and polished. Without hesitation I stand. The girl, is still in my arms. I stand with her. Her skin, is warm against my own.

"Sir."

I say, nodding my head. He motions to the girl, and I notice there are more Knights behind him.

"Charon, you are proving to me that you are becoming quite disloyal."

"Sir?"

The familiar sound of the bars clicking open takes my attention. Two Knights step in, and the other three remain behind my employer. They are not armed. As they cautiously approach me, I back away.

"Do not be alarmed, Charon. They are here for the girl. We need her back in the lab today."

I feel it wash over me. As if I am one of the town drunks in an old Western pre-war movie. Although they reach for the girl, although they get closer, I pull her away. She jerks in my arms, moaning in her deep sleep. _Promise you won't let them take me_. Her voice rings in my head, soft, and beautiful. I do not know what overcomes me, or why it does so, but I do not let them near her.

"Charon, relax. Give the girl to them."

I clutch her tightly, trying to rouse her from sleep. It does me no good. As they take another step, as do I. Away from them.

"Charon I order you to give them the girl!"

He gives an order. I hear it. My body begins to shake with confliction, shake so violently, that it wakes the girl.

"…Charon…?"

She says as she lifts her drowsy head. An order. I am given an order, I obey. I must obey. I cannot stop myself, although I am fighting to, propelled by unknown forces. Slowly, the Knights advance, reaching to take her from me. I think of Beethoven's 'Moonlight Sonata'.

"She will die if taken there again."

I explain to my employer, calmly, rationally, as I feel her slip from my grip, being taken.

"Charon…"

She is too weak, too tired, to fight. The only resistance she shows is when she holds to my hand longer than she should. One of the two Knights pries her hand from mine. I feel as if I am failing. At what, I am unsure.

"What does it matter to you if she dies? She's just a girl."

"It matters to me, sir, and I cannot explain why."

My answer displeases him. It makes him angry with me, and as the Knights exit, he slams the bars closed.

"Then you will _stay_ here until you _learn_!"

I do not question what it is I am to learn. I cannot. I feel frozen in place, as the girl is taken away, as the music I heard years and years ago floats through my mind. Their rhythmic footsteps are heard all down the hall. I can think of nothing but that song, 'Moonlight Sonata', as they vanish down the corridor.


	63. Cold Nostalgia Chills Me to the Bone

(Dez)

I can feel the dragging me, but I'm not strong enough to fight back. Plus, I can tell I'm outnumbered by the sounds of their footsteps. Man, what I wouldn't give for a warm bed and a cigarette. As fucked as it sounds right now, Charon is the least of my worries. I know he's safe, in the cell. I know he's breaking, too. I could feel it. He didn't want them to take me, I heard him. He held fast to me. I felt it. Somewhere, back in the recesses and black parts of his mind, he remembers. I know he does.

Yesterday, Anne Marie took a lot of blood from me. Said it was for testing. Yeah, testing my ass. It's for something bigger than that, but I can't even being to think about it right now. I mean, I know I'll die here, if I don't think of _something_ to do.

"You're a tough little thing, aren't you?"

Henry says as he looks down at me. I wasn't kidding when I said they were dragging me. Shit, I can't even stand up right now.

"…Fuck you."

I mutter. It takes a lot to talk, after you've lost so much blood. Trust me, I know.

"Try as you may, little girl, but Charon is bound to me. He may humor you in your efforts, but he is loyal through and through. After all, he obeyed me this morning."

I don't care. I don't. All I care about right now is figuring a way to get out of this mess. And I think I know a way. Maybe.

"Fuck off."

I mutter again, as we begin to climb the stairs. Stupid fucking stairs. My knees scrape up against them. Henry is _wrong_. Charon is breaking, I can tell. Henry doesn't know jack shit about me, or about Charon. He has no idea of our past. Unless, of course, he heard the broadcast on GNR. Then, he knows everything and I'm kind of sort of, well, fucked. But, not really. I mean, I'm slick, right? I've got enough notches on my belt to figure out some way out of this mess. Granted I have _no_ military training whatsoever and these guys outnumber me ten to one but, hey, worth a shot.

Thankfully, we get to the lab. I say thankfully because my knees couldn't take anymore of that banging. I'm strong enough now to walk on my own, but _they_ don't know that. Ah, see where I'm goin' with this now? Told ya, always got a trick up my sleeve. No matter how absent my sleeves may be at times.

"She looks pale."

Anne says to Henry as the Knights lift me up on the table. They don't bother to strap my down right away. They're busy 'small talking'.

"She's sick, apparently."

"Probably from all the blood I took from her yesterday."

"Did you find anything?"

"Well, Henry, no. Nothing we didn't know anyways. But, I have found a solution that I could possibly turn into an injection. It'll take a few trial runs, and some more blood, but I can make it work."

"I hope so, Anne, I'm counting on you. We _have_ to make this work."

Anne and I make eye-contact. It's not common. Yesterday she averted my eyes at all costs, and didn't even _try_ to speak to me. Talk about rude. But I can see in her eyes, there's concern. I'm not sure exactly to what degree, but it's there. She's worried.

"But, sir, I'm not sure if I can take much more from her. She might die."

"We have her blood, that will be enough. Her death I'm sure will be a blessing."

"Henry, with all do respect I do not wish to kill someone who…never mind."

She stops her sentence much to Henry's pleasure. That rat bastard. But at least it gives me a shot. While all the other Knights and Henry and Anne are busy talking test subjects and medical shit, I make my move. Sorry boys, but if I'm not tied down I take off. That's exactly what I do, too.

Jumping off of the table, I made a mad dash to the door. If I can just get to it, and slam it behind me, I can delay them. The steps are narrow, they won't all fit down them. I can run down and get Charon free. After that, well, I haven't planned that far. Let me just make my grand escape first. I run as fast as I can, and thank god I make it through the door, but too bad I can't close it in time.

A Knight manages to catch up to me, and tackles me to the ground. He winds me, and I cry out.

"Get off! Fuck off!"

I scream, throwing a tantrum my old self would. I don't care anymore. I'm _not_ letting them take me, or my blood. It's my blood. Why should I share it?

"Take her in! Strap her down!"

Henry's voice rings out as the Knight displaces his weight on me. If I had all my strength back, I'd give him a well-aimed kick to the helmet. But I don't, and the sprint plus the tackle kind of really fucked me up. There's nothing I can really do at this point, except give Henry the death look as they push me past him, and back into the lab.

"I've had enough of you infringing on my plans!"

He screams, and they slam me on the table.

"Yeah? Well I don't care!"

I yell back as they fight to restrain me and strap me down. Even weak, I can still piss them off something grand.

"If you're not dead by the time you leave here tonight, I promise to god you will be when you get back!"

Shit. Charon may be breaking, but he's not broken. I haven't been able to fully convince him of anything yet. I have no doubt in my mind, that Henry is going to tell him to kill me. And probably watch to make sure he does it this time. Feeling the straps fasten around my wrists and ankles, I bare my teeth at him.

"He _won't_ kill me! _You_ won't kill me! I'm the fucking vigilante of the Capital Wasteland! I'm fucking _invincible_!"

Henry laughs at my screams, and everyone else in the room joins in. They take a sort of sport to watching me squirm and wretch at the straps. I don't care. Hell I don't even care about how crazy I might sound at this point. All I'm focusing on is showing them I'm not worried, no matter how terrified I might be. Truth is, I'm scared out of my mind. I am. I know Charon. I know he'll carry out an order, even with his growing suspicions of everything. Right now, that's the only solid thing he's sure of, his contract. He'll abide by it over me, at this point anyways.

When Henry and everyone else leaves, I can't help but feel a bit, okay a lot, terrified. I know Henry. I know he wouldn't bluff. It's just…I don't even know anymore. Anne tinkers with things, glass things, vials of my blood, I can hear her even after I shut my eyes. Right now, I'm trying to remember. Remember anything, remember everything. Remember pain or even pleasure. I don't care what it is, I just want to be lost in it.

Instantly, my mind goes to Charon. Not of anything recent, no. But instead of something older. Something different. I remember how he carried me. No particular memory in general, just how he carried me. Either on his back, my head comfortably resting on his shoulder, or bridal style, with my legs dangling over his arms. I smell old leather from somewhere in the room, and it reminds me of him. Of his touch, his scent. How he used to feel, pressed up against me in the most dangerous of times.

Like when the Talons ambushed us at Jury Street. He took me in his arms, firing rounds with his only free hand, because the other arm was busy holding me tightly in his chest, between his legs as he crouched to the ground. It still sends a shudder up my spine, when I remember that. Even in New Vegas, I'd think of how that felt, and shudder with pleasure. Not sexual pleasure, but just…I don't know. Remembering pleasure, I guess. How good it felt, to be so safe and secure. I'm scared I'll never have that again.

"You're helping a lot of people, Dez."

Anne says, and I'm mad at her for taking me out of my mind. At least there I know it's safe. For the most part, anyways.

"You're not helping me."

"Dez, your blood will help strengthen the Brotherhood in ways you can't even imagine."

"Glad I could help, but that's not really on my to-do list."

I can still be stark, even in the face of danger. It's not the loss of blood that scares me now, it's what will happen if I don't die here on this table.

"You know, Dezbe, I really do feel bad about the situation with Charon."

I don't say anything.

"I mean, you two really were the Romeo and Juliet of the Capital Wasteland."

"Excuse me, but who the _fuck_ are Romeo and Juliet?"

Really, I have no idea. If I don't die here, and if Charon doesn't kill me when I get back, I'll ask him. He knows everything.

"It's a long story. But trust me, this is for the greater good."

"Yeah so you fuckers have been telling me since I came from the damned vault."

She smiles down at me. I don't feel comforted by her stupid smile. I can see the needle in her hand, and I know she's going to hook that rubber surgical tube right to it. She's going to kill me.

"Now, this will pinch, more than yesterday seeing as how you're still bruised."

I don't bother to prepare myself. I don't care. I just close my eyes, and let myself remember a different time in my life. A time that included campfires and snide remarks. A time where Charon and I could freely go where we pleased, without a bother or worry. A time I realize I've come to miss…a lot.

Even though I can feel the blood coming out from my arm, kind of like a sucking feeling, I don't care about it. By now, with all that I heard yesterday in this stupid lab room, I know what's up. My dad helped, believe it or not. In the vault, way back when, he'd talk to Jonas about the Overseer. With my curious little bastard self eavesdropping. He'd say that the Overseer was like 'Big Brother', I never knew who that was until later. That he didn't like it, and sooner or later, we needed to escape the vault. I was thinking about that, while in a daze yesterday, while Henry and Anne talked. See, they want to make a government, basically. The second I heard him mention that word, I thought of 'Big Brother' and it took me a while to remember who he was. When I did, I didn't like it.

The Capital Wasteland isn't like that. It's not a place where society could ever be rebuilt, or even wants to be rebuilt. After so long, if it wanted to, it would have. Henry has some half-assed scheme on how to make it bigger, better, the new 'America'. No. No you see I don't think the people will agree. Yes, there's horrors, yes there's suffering, but there's unlimited freedom. A new war will start out, a civil war, if anyone tries that. I can't speak on behalf of the entire Capital Wasteland, or even on behalf of what once was America, but I can say this: They don't want civilization. They don't want it, and they don't like it when things are forced on you. Keep that shit in the New California Republic. Don't bring it here. We don't like it here.

I figure Henry knew I'd have this outlook, and I'm the only one crazy enough to question the Brotherhood. I'm the only one crazy enough to fight it. Sure, they could just kill everyone who doesn't agree, which I think is their plan, but what would be the point? People are doing well, fine. There's fresh water, and I think people will grow things sooner or later. Don't rush this. Let the earth, the world, recover at its own pace. You can't force these things. Catch my drift? Let it happen. With fresh water, there's less radiation. In a few generations, maybe even people will build real houses, and Raiders will stop raiding. I don't know. What I do know is, you can't all of a sudden barge in somewhere and demand compromise. That's what they want. I won't let them do that. I don't owe this world anything, but I feel like if I don't do anything, no one will. It will end up like The Pitt. I can't let that happen.

After a while of my blood being sucked out of me, I start to feel dizzy. Even with my eyes closed the room spins, and I feel sick to my stomach. I know this feeling, and I know soon, it'll all go black. And it does.


	64. Hello, I Am Your Mind

(Charon)

"Do you understand your orders?"

"Yes."

"I do not expect you to screw this up. If you do, you will be subject to termination. Are we clear?"

"Yes."

"Good."

My employer walks away, leaving me in the cell still, and with a deep fear in my stomach. He has promised me freedom from this cell, and a place beside him when the West Coast faction of the Brotherhood arrives. Under the condition that I follow through with my order. That if the girl comes back here alive, that I kill her. I do not know what to do. I have been thinking, sitting, thinking. I cannot help it. I have no weapons, which means if I do decide to follow through with this, it would have to be with my bare hands. One would classify that as a 'personal' kill. Getting close to the victim, and looking within their eyes as you do away with them. Watching, as the very life they have, leaves forever.

An order should be easy for me to obey. That is simply it, an order. Yet it pains me. Perhaps that is not the right word, perhaps it is. I do not feel comfortable, with wrapping my hands around the frail girl's neck, and doing away with her as if she were…just another hit. She is not. She is anything but, I have come to realize that. There is an air of her, an essence. Her willingness to touch me freely, to stand close to me, to talk with me so equally. To seem to never give up on convincing me we met, and had a whirlwind of a romance, even. To tell me, she loved me, before vanishing into the night. Only, only to come back. For what? For who? For me.

That is what moves me. She was free, free as the birds that once littered this world. She could have gone anywhere, escaped my employer's hands. She did not. True to her promise as she ran from the fort, she returned. She placed herself in this situation, in this near-death area, in the place where they take so much from her, her own heart struggles to beat. For me. No one, has ever done anything like that for me. Protected me, perhaps. Given the circumstances certain employers have fought beside me on the battlefield, and taken out enemies who I had not seen. But nothing as extreme as this.

Kill her? Could I possibly do such a thing? Bring myself to…yes. Yes I must, because it is an order, and my own life hangs in this balance. Then again, her life hung in the balance as well, but she still returned. Why is this not simple? Why do so many questions and unfamiliar, yet knowing, feelings arise within me when I deal with her, when I think of her? I do not know. I cannot tell you. She insists we have met, but no matter how much time I spend searching my mind, I cannot find those memories. I find nothing but blackness. Emptiness.

Pacing, I sigh heavily with this burden. I do not know when she will return, so my time is limited. I must figure a conclusion to this. Weighing my options, figuring out different outcomes, I find that obeying my employer is always the best thing for me to do. In ensures my safety, my rank, it is the purpose of my entire life spent training. Yet I question it. A voice in the back of my mind, one that I am sure I have never heard before, causes me to question it. To question causing physical harm to this girl.

I stop suddenly in my pace. I look around the room, as if I someone is watching me. No one is. I remember something. Something the girl said to me last night. She claimed my employer was in the room with her. She said he told her I would not remember. Remember? Remember what? He claimed something along the lines of remembering her, per say, and she then in turn said she would still try. Is it, perhaps a possibility, that…no, no it cannot be. Can it?

My mind goes numb. I feel nothing, I think nothing. As if it is gone into some form of nervous system overdrive. My entire body freezes up. I am trained to kill, I am the best of the best. I left my facility at the highest rank, even better skilled than those who trained me. And yet, here I stand. My physical abilities prevent even the best fighter from defeating me, but my mental abilities, are far weaker. I never considered it before, never thought of it. Never. It is possible, that perhaps my employer, did in fact manipulate me. Of course, the thought of that is undeniably inane, but it must be taken into consideration. Large areas of time are missing from my memory. I jump from one year, to this, as if there never was an 'in-between'. I feel sick, as my nerves return to me.

Let me view it this way, as I sit myself down on the bench to steady my upset stomach. Perhaps all this girl says is true. We met, we courted, and even went as far as to experience this emotion of love. If that is so, then that means the confines of my contract were ultimately overcame. Moreover, if it is true, it means at one point I overcame my own training. Whippings with the ancient cat-o-nine tails was punishment for _any_ display of emotion other than anger or obedience or even reluctantly. Emotions that improved the work, were the only ones allowed.

Overcoming my own training seems impossible to me at this point, yet I am aware it is very possible. I am doing it now by questioning all of this. If all these situation in which the girl has spoken of are true, hypothetically, then right now I do not remember them. My only justifiable answer to this, given if these things happened, are that I was _ordered_ not to remember them. I will obey an order, and there are no barriers to what that order may be. If I am told to forget something, I obey. If I am told to perform say open heart surgery, although unknowing how, I obey. I never saw it this way before, but perhaps…maybe, just maybe, this is the way it has been done.


	65. Deep Inside Me, I Can Be the One

I blur my mind with possibilities and dead-end outcomes. It all fits, seamlessly. It does not mean I believe it, it just simply means that there are far too many coincidences for me to properly place. I do not pay attention to the passage of time, not that I have means to, but I find I spend better half of the day thinking, and wondering, and causing myself quite the headache.

Only when I hear the familiar noise of the Knights' footsteps echoing down the hall, do I snap myself away from the stupor. They are speaking, their words, echoing loud enough for my keen ears to hear.

"Don't even feel like the bitch is alive."

"Good. The world is better that way."

"Protector Casdin should have killed her way before this mess."

"True, but this is the better outcome. She'll be dead by tomorrow anyways. Hear the ghoul has orders."

"Yeah, like he'll obey. I swear, sometimes Casdin has some shit-stupid systems."

"I gotcha."

They appear through the right hand side of the bars, and walk to the far left where the doors are able to open. A key is presented. They do not know I am watching. A lock clicks, and I stare and observe from the shadows. The girl…she rests between them. No noise, no protests, not even the sound of her breathing is present. My heart begins to race, as they drop her in the cell, locking it behind her.

I wait until they are gone, before I make my move. Standing, I walk over to her, to Dez. She makes no sound, no movement. Her body lays on the cold floor of the cell, her hair sprayed out around her, her hands not even twitching. I bend down, curious, but more concerned.

"Dez?"

I ask, the palm of my gloved hand reaching towards her. I take her wrist, feeling her pulse. It is faint, near death, and I panic. I have never panicked before. I pick her up, scooping her into my arms, and immediately begin to make do with what I have. I forget the standing orders to kill her. No. No my mind is set on keeping her alive. Not killing her.

Furiously, I rub my hands up and down her arms, bringing her cold, death-like skin warmth. Her heartbeat is faint, an almost two-second pause between the lub, and the dub. She should be dead, and will be, if I do not act fast. Letting her go from my protective grip is hard, but I know it is for the best. I lie her flat on her back, and part her mouth with my hands. Pressing both my palms on her chest, I press down. I perform CPR on her, as much as I can, pausing only to warm her.

When nothing seems to work, I panic more. Frantically, I begin to unstrap the leather armor I wear on my chest. My hands shake. They have never shaken before. I push that in the back of my mind for now, there is only so much I can concentrate on. Instead, I focus on removing my black shirt, the same one I have worn for years and years. When it is removed, I wrap it tightly around the girl, and pick her up once more. I pray to any god who will listen, that she will live.

"Wake up."

I say into her ear, as I brush hair away from her face. Nothing. No spoken response, not even the flutter of an eyelid But her heart, her heart still beats.

"Wake up, please."

I say once more, a bit more urgently. I press her close to my bare chest, trying to use whatever I can to warm her, whatever I can to resuscitate her, but it looks bleak. I feel hopeless, defeated, as I sit with my knees beneath me, and this soon-to-be lifeless girl in my arms. I give up, and speak, what is in my mind.

"…And must I joyless, friendless die? No mortal ever resigns his breath, I see, without a double death; Who loves, and is beloved no more, His hapless fate may well deplore; Life's loss may easily be borne, Of love bereft man is forlorn…"

I whisper an old poem. One, that came to me before. It flashed in my mind, as I thought of the girl. Voltaire's _From Love to Friendship_. It matches the image, matched the feelings, that I was trying so hard to place. I do not know what causes me to recite this particular verse, but it comes from my lips too fast for me to stop it. With my time spent with her, Dez, I see her as my friend now. As a companion of sorts. As someone I am curious enough about, to disobey an order, to comfort and even give efforts to save. I have never felt this type of protection over someone, this type of overbearing sense of safety. I am like a Yao Guai protecting a young cub. I want nothing more than to kill the hands who did this, but at the same time, know it is against everything. For the first time in as long as I can remember, I do not care.

"…ahh…"

The faint noise from her mouth makes me jump. Immediately, I begin to warm her once more. Furiously, I move my hands up and down, like a caveman would sticks to create fire. A quiver from her body makes me realize it is working. I do all I can, to keep her with me.

"Can you hear me?"

I ask, and a slow, subtle twitch of her leg is enough for me to continue.

"Listen to me."

I tell her, continuing my motions.

"I do not know you. I do not remember you. Yet there is something about you, that is causing me right now to disobey a direct order. If I do this, I am going against what I was taught to do my entire life. If I do this, you must help me discover what it is that causes this. I refuse, to risk all that I have created in my life, for the likes of nothing."

I nearly hold my breath, awaiting her response. A noise, a twitch, a flutter or bat of an eyelash. Yet…as time slowly passes, as I hear the ticking of an old grandfather clock deep within the back of my mind…nothing happens.

"Dezbe, Dez, please, open your eyes. Open them, look up at me, please. I need you here with me. Little girl, please, wake up."

I brush the side of her face with my knuckles, clearing away loose strands of her red and brown hair. I feel a effervesce of sadness welling up deep inside, as I begin to fear the worst. I cling to her, my bare chest against her face. I hope that somehow, it warms her. Yet I know better. I know she needs an IV, I know she needs blood, rest, fluids to sustain her. I know the odds are against me, but I do not care. I must continue to try.

I look down at her once more, as I hold her tightly. She must wake, she must.

"…ahhaa…"

I hear once more, coming from her lips. Excitement wants me to jump up, to hold her high in the air, but I remain seated. I remain calm, and I remain waiting.

"Please, just try."

I whisper, readjusting her body so that I may cradle her head. When I do so, I notice that her leg twitches, and her finger soon follows. More noise emits from her, not words, but simple sounds. Simple sounds have never sounded more beautiful, than they do now. I can hardly contain the smile of relief that I feel wanting to permit itself upon my face. I stroke her cheek, with the palm of my gloved hand, as my black shirt remains tightly wrapped around her body. Looking down at her, I realize just how beautiful she is. Her nose, her cheekbones, her eyes, they are all perfect. There is no flaw. Even the jagged scars that run across her face, they just add to her perfection. They add to her mesmerizing beauty. What is this? I have never…done any of this before. I have been here before. I have been with this girl, holding her close like this. I have walked these waters, I know I have.

"Sh…"

She is able to mutter, and I quickly react.

"Do not speak now. Just rest, and breathe deeply."

Her body begins to shake, and I know she is weak, near death. Dez, is living on borrowed time. Her thighs quiver, her hands twitch, and I know I must figure something out. I know I must act quickly. I begin to plan. I have spent my entire life planning, making up movements and how to motions in my mind, but never, have I ever done so for the life of another. Never, have I ever felt so close and connected to someone, that I have only just met.

"You must stay here, Dezbe. When they come for me, you must pretend to be dead. They will not touch you, they will not take you, but you must trust me."

I whisper in her ear. She has no reason to trust me, I have disobeyed her trust. Yet I know she will. Something inside of me tells me she will, and something inside of me also tells me that this is not the first time we have met. I know soon, a Knight or perhaps even my employer may come down and see if I did my job, if my order was followed out with. I know what I must do then, I know what truly matters.

The grip of her small hand on my chest causes me to look down at her. The Pip-Boy she wears on her wrist is not lit up, but it emits some small lighting. I see her eyes rolling around beneath her eyelids.

"I am here."

I say, as if I know it is what she wants. As if she is simply searching for me. I am here. I am with her.

"….I…"

"Do not speak. Remain silent. They will come soon. Trust me."

She takes in a deep breath, as if she is sighing. Her breathing returns to shallow, almost deathly slow. I take my hand from her face, and wrap my fingers within hers. I stare at her, as if she is this amazing, priceless, piece of artwork that nothing could ever compare to. I do not know why I feel this way, but I decide to no longer try and figure a reason for it. I will accept it. I will sit here, with her body so perfectly fitting with mine, and hold her, keeping her warm and off of the cold floor, until they come.

"You must stay with me. Rest, but stay."

I tell her, releasing the grip on her hand to gently rub her arms and neck. She moans something I do not understand, but it is enough for me to be satisfied.

"I will leave you soon, but I will return. Just as you returned for me."

I cannot wait for a response. The noise of metal footsteps jolts me, and I quickly snap to attention. Gently, I lie the girl down, making sure my shirt is wrapped around her body. Without any more hesitation, I place my armor back on my bare chest. It fits looser, without my shirt, but I will manage. Standing, I walk away from the girl, hoping, she lasts long enough for me to get us to safety.

"Ghoul."

The Knight says as he comes into view. I lean against the bars, my arms crossed, my shoulder supporting me. I glare at him, eager.

"I did what my employer requested of me. The girl is dead."

The Knight looks at me, and then to the motionless bundle on the floor. He waits for moments, long, agonizing precious moments that I could be using to my own advantage. But I can do nothing but wait.

"I see that. Right. Then I am to let you out and dispose of the girl. Protector Casdin wants you to report to his office immediately."

"Dispose of the girl?"

I feel I am too quick to ask, and that the worry has leaked out into my voice, but the Knight does not notice.

"Yeah. We don't want her rotting corpse stinking up the place. Prolly just gonna bury her out back or burn her. Don't know."

"I see."

I step back so that he may unlock the cell door for me. Such an ill-trained solider. I would have been beaten within an inch of my life, had I made such a foolish mistake as he is making in training. You must always check to see if they are dead, always. He does no such thing, and allows me to step out of the cell.

My plan has been changed. Since I now am on a timed schedule, I must act quickly. I had planned to walk to my employer's office, and do away with him first, then return for the girl. My contract? It means nothing to me. Not after what I suspect my employer has done. I now stand before the Knight, and examine him. He has a small pistol on his hip, and it will have to do.

"What are you doing ghoul? Did you not hear me? Go on, get up there."

I blink, and glare at him. Something overcomes me. Anger. I recognize his voice as the one who took Dez away, and brought her back in this condition. Even with his armor, I know he is no match for me. I do not hesitate. I lunge forward, wrapping my hands around his neck as I pry the helmet off of him.

"Help!"

He manages to scream only once, before I begin to bring the helmet down on his head. Over, and over, I begin to use his protection as a weapon. Nothing stops me now. I am enraged, I am angry. I am doing, what I was born and bred to do. I am killing.

"…Charon…"

A faint whisper of my name ceases all actions. I hold the helmet high, as I still pin down the lifeless body of the nameless Knight who came down to permit me my freedom. Dez, she calls my name, as if her very life depends on it. In this circumstance, I fear it does.

Clipping the gun to my waist, I push back the doubts and voices of my training that tells me this is wrong. It does not matter now, as I reenter the cell.

"I am here."

I tell her, resting my hand on her shoulder as I crouch beside her. She lays on her side, her breath shallow, her skin, freezing. She says nothing, but I know what I must do. Scooping her into my arms, I carry her. Her legs across my elbows, her head resting on my other elbows, she feels lighter than air. I clutch her close to my chest. Time, is not on my side.

"Where is your home?"

I ask, and as I do, a picture of what I remember to be Tenpenny Tower flashes before my eyes.

"Never mind."

She does not answer me, I do not need her to. She lives in the tower, in the penthouse building, in a penthouse apartment on the top floor. How do I know this? Did she tell me? Perhaps…but then…how am I so aware of the layout? Why, as I walk carefully down the corridor, do I know what her place of living looks like? I look down at her, and I sigh. There is no denying it any longer. I know this girl. And I know now, why I do not remember her. My employer. He will pay for this.


	66. I've Been Waiting to be There for You

I do not dare place her body down. Even when the Knights have come, inquiring as to why I am carrying her, I do not. Even when they figure out what I have done, and begin their attack, I hold her close. I utilize the small pistol to the best of my abilities, and in comparison to those of the Outcasts, I am far superior. Their armor is not bulletproof, it has many weak spots. With one hand, I am able to aim and hit where I need to hit, without disturbing the girl. Only three have crossed my path, and I am aware there are many more. I must retrieve my shotgun, from my employer's quarters, before I feel even remotely safe in placing the girl down.

Clutching her close, I navigate the narrow halls and corridors. My mind whirs with situations, possibilities, outcomes, but moreover, my choice. The choice, _my_ choice, to disobey what I was always taught to do, to disobey and fight against my employer. I do not heed or pay attention to the nagging voices of my trainers from my past. I ignore them, for the first time in my life. I am void of years, black, empty spaces fill where I assume is periods of time. Where I know the girl should be. According to her, I should have fond memories, tender moments, and instances where her and I laid beneath the stars. It is vacant, devoid of feeling, of life, where those memories should be. Looking down at her, my rage and anger grows. My employer took those memories from me, stole them, and I intend to do whatever I can, to bring them back. If one does not have memories of fondness when they are alone, then what do they have? What makes them a person, without those clips of time to return to? Which makes me ask…because of my own past, because of my actions…am I truly what one would call a man?

I come to my employer's office door. I stand before it, hesitant. A small moan from the girl, weak, helpless, forces me to move forward. I do not remember her, but feeling her weight in my arms, I do not deny any longer that we had something. That at some point in time, a time where I can no longer recall, she was once very special to me. And I find…somehow, against all odds, she still is.

I bring her to the room I once resided in, behind my employer's desk, and lie her on my cot. The office is empty, and I rummage through the foot locker to retrieve my items. My shotgun, my combat knife, two of the three things I have carried with me my entire life. The third, is around my neck, hidden from prying eyes. Quickly I check the drum of my shotgun, full. I make sure my knife is sharp, it is. Movement on the cot catches my eye, and I look up to see the girl twitching her arm. She needs medical attention. She will die, if it is not brought to her soon. Cocking my shotgun, I prepare to pick her up. I am able to fire my weapon with one hand, it is like second nature to me, but to carry her and fight at once? How? Perhaps I could sling her over my shoulders? It may work, but I worry that whatever blood her heart is pumping will rush to her head. I could put her on my back, pick-a-back, but she would need to grip on to me.

Returning to her side, I brush hair from her face, and lean down close to her.

"Are you strong enough to hold your weight, if I place you on my back?"

I ask, and slowly, her eyes open. She looks at me, so frail, so gentle, I wish to kiss her. I have never felt the urge to kiss anyone before, but with her, I do. Before she can answer me, however, a voice causes me to stand, and raise my gun.

"It wouldn't be wise to aim your gun at me, Charon."

My employer stands before me, blocking the only way out. My gun is already cocked, and all I must do is squeeze the trigger. I fear if I do this now, I will never regain the memories he stole.

"It was not wise of you to do anything you have."

"Ah, so you remember?"

"No."

He laughs as he take something from his pocket. My contract.

"I still hold this Charon. You must obey whatever I order you to do."

"I am no longer in your service. I have freed myself."

"And how did you do that?"

"I decided to."

My employer shakes his head as he lets my contract fall to the ground. I watch, careful, and making sure I stand protectively in front of the girl. My arms are raised, I am ready to fire, but I hesitate. Slowly, he pulls a Magnum from his waist and raises it to me. I watch his eyes, watch as he realizes what he is doing, and smirks. He then shifts his arm, and I look to see he has it aimed at the girl. I cannot protect her entire body while I am standing and she is laying down, but I can protect her vital areas. I move in front of the gun, and he simply changes sides.

"Charon, I am going to shoot her. She's weak enough as it is, and she will surely die no matter where the bullet hits. Lower your weapon, or else I will."

I feel my arms begin to shake. I if I fire mine, I know he is trained enough to release just a single shot. I cannot risk it. I cannot risk it not missing, and harming the girl more. I do as I am told, not because it is an order, but because I fear for the girl's life.

"That's good, Charon. Now you're going to listen to me. I'll let the girl go, let her leave here with her life, and never again lay a hand upon her. After all, she's given us more than we could have ever wanted. However, you, must stay."

"You cannot make me. I will escape."

"Charon you seem to be misunderstanding me. There is _no_ escaping. After the betrayal you've caused me…I cannot trust you. You come from the Ninth Circle in Underworld, do you not?"

"I do."

"A perfect place, for one who commits a treacherous crime. At least, that is what the Ninth Circle of Hell is, correct? The circle of traitors? And there are rounds, are there not? Tell me, Charon, why is this seemingly so befitting of you?"

Although I do not wish to share anything of my past with him, I feel it will stall him, so that I may come up with a quick plan of action.

"I belong in round four, named for Judas, betrayer of Christ. It is where one is a traitor to their lord, or their beneficiary."

"And you were a traitor to whom in your past?"

"An employer."

"I see, I see, funny, how history seems to repeat itself. Perhaps now, you can return to the ninth circle, but in a different context. If you are a religious man, I suggest you begin praying to whatever god you feel will listen, to a traitor."

He threatens my life, and I know my time is pressing. If I move forward, charging him, he will fire. I do not know if he will let the girl go, and even if he did so, she is too weak to walk out. I cannot pick up my own weapon, he will simply shoot her as I bend down. I do not know, what it is I can do.

The click of the gun loading makes my spine itch and tingle with anticipation and sensations. I do not wish to die now, with blank memories and a girl who I have yet to help. My life is different, I have a purpose. No longer am I serving under someone, no longer am I bound to something as thin as a piece of paper. I am my own man now, and I owe that to this girl. In another time, I owed her then for the same thing. Letting her die here, in this room, alone, would be the ultimate failure for me. She helped me, touched me, kissed me, came back for me, and claimed even to love me. I cannot simply disregard an action so pure and beautiful as that. But I must. I must die here, now, in the hopes that she will be free. I hope she will forever think of me, and forever, keep a safe place for me in her heart.

I hear the trigger being squeezed, my senses heightened in this time of life and death. I anticipate the bullet piercing through my armor, and anticipate another, for one will not bring me down. But instead of the pain, of the hurt, I fall. A force hits me from the back of my knees, and I crumble as the pressure point gives me leeway. The gun does not fire again, and by the time I am able to slow my mind down, and collect my thoughts, I am on the floor, a horrified look on my employers face.

"…Shit…"

I hear behind me, weak, whispering. My heart races as I turn my head. The girl, she sits up, her hand clasped over her chest. Blood seeps from between her fingers, and the anger blackens me. I do not grab my gun. I lunge at my former employer, knocking him out of the doorway, and on to the desk. His gun falls from his hands, and slides across the floor. I wrap my hands around his neck, and peer into his eyes. I see the fear, the life, the pity he wishes me to take on him. As he stares back, I know he sees the anger, the hate, the rage, the pain, in my own. I take no mercy, no pity. Those are foreign words to me now. My hands tighten around him, his face turning the color of a plum. I snarl at him, as he flails his arms and hands, his pathetic attempt to knock them away. I am stronger. I hold fast, and do not budge. The bones in his neck, his muscles, they feel soft under my hands, as I bare my teeth. It does not matter now, if I can gain back those memories, for there is all the time in the world to make more. All the time.

As his tongue swells, his eyes close, and the life slips from him forever, I release my grip. I let him fall to the floor, his head hitting the concrete like a melon. The sound wakes me, my anger recedes for the moment, and I turn to look through the doorway at the girl.

"Dez…"

I whisper. She leans against the wall, eyes closed. Blood soaks her hand, as she weakly holds her chest. I know the entrance wound is small, but if it exited, it will be rather large. No more hesitation, I walk over, scooping up my gun and my contract in the process. Her eyes grow wide, snapping open, as I scoop her into my arms. Blood from her back soaks my arms, as I bring her close to my chest.

"I am going to find you help."

I tell her, as she begins to breathe deeply, as if she is forcing herself to stay alive. I do not check my former employer as I leave, I simply walk over his body, knowing that if he is still alive, he will not touch me, or the girl. If he is not dead now, he will be. I promise.

"I am bringing you to Tenpenny Tower. I assume there is help there."

I tell her, as we exit the building. Knights do not interfere, they scurry like radroaches with their heads cut off, wondering what is going on. It is as if they do not even notice us, or perhaps, do not even care. At times, I would question their loyalty and trust in the Protector Casdin. I wondered, if any of them truly _did_ hate this girl. This girl, that lies bleeding to death in my arms. Who hangs by a thread of life, that I hope the Fates do not cut. This girl, who is so insane or so brave, has caused both the Brotherhood of Steel, and the Enclave, to come after her. Her death will not be meaningless. Her death will affect everyone, and everyone will live to feel the consequences. I will see to that.


	67. The Piano Duet

The tower looms ahead, a mixture of foreboding and welcoming all at once. I know I must bring her here, her home is here. I glance down at her, as I prepare to slide down the steep hill that will bring me to the fence. Her breathing is almost nonexistent, her eyes are shut, and blood drips off of my arms, off of her. I know she is alive. You bleed, only when you are alive. It stops, only when you die. I kiss the top of her forehead. Her skin is cold, soft against my ghoulified lips.

"Hold on."

I tell her, and prepare myself. I slide down with difficulty, but I know that if I do not take all the necessary precautions, she will get hurt. I do not want that. When I reach the bottom, I bring her as close to me as she can get. Looking up at the stars above, I watch the moon as it lights the path I walk along. I feel it to be an all-seeing eye, like the one in hell. I feel the stars are all the souls of the damned, and they are on my side. The brightness of the full moon guides me, the stars watch over me, making sure I do my duty, in getting her to a safe place.

There are wisps of blue, within the black night sky. Almost like a river. A river, that I must cross. The ferryman of the dead. If she dies here, in my arms, I will feel for the first time my name fits me. In literature, Charon was often characterized by anger, rage. He would herd the dead on to his boat with his oar, insulting their girth. He wore reddish brown, the color of what remains of my hair. I never did see, the correlation of my name and my being, until now. A euphemism for death. People die around me, I bring them death, I kill them. You cross me, and I will kill you. Perhaps, that is why my trainers chose that name. 'Death' was too strong, too cliché, too offensive. 'Charon', they must have felt, suited me much better.

I return my gaze to the girl as I walk along the fence towards the front entrance. Her body is limp, her blood is moist, and I am fearful. I gaze down, the tune of _Moonlight Sonata_ playing in my head. I think of it, because it fits her. The sad, tragic piece with no words. So beautiful, words would destroy the beauty. Slow, melodic, heartrending, it fits the girl. Even her smile, when she once smiled at me, fits the notes that play. As if I know she is doomed to forever be in these situation, as if I know she once was. No, no I do know. I do know, in her past, perhaps even with me, more moments like this have happened than I could count. Moments, where her very life hung in my hands, and where, I restored it for her.

I come to the gate, and gently shuffling her weight, press the button to open it. When it does, I step inside, and look around. This place is familiar, and I am certain I have been here before. I know that fountain, those chairs, the doors in front of me. I must not get distracted now, and even though the doors to the tower opens, as the sun begins to rise over the horizon, I do not slow my pace.

"Charon?"

I hear my name being called in disbelief. The ghoul at the door, who had opened the door, is the one who calls it. As I get closer to the ghoul, I recognize him as Gob. For some reason, I find I am quite relieved to see him. As if we are old friends, and it has been too long.

"I thought you were fuckin' dead."

He says, before he notices Dez in my arms. His face turns a ghastly white, white enough for even me to cringe at. The blood soaked into her outfit, drenching my arms, alarms him. We stand before one another, looking at the girl. My heart sinks. I feel this girl, means a lot to the people here. That she ties it all together, somehow, in some twisted way.

"…She's dead…isn't she?"

Gob asks, defeated. I slowly shake my head, preparing to speak.

"No, not yet. She needs help, she is wounded. Is there a doctor here?"

He gives me a quizzical look, as if I am supposed to know the answer to that question, or perhaps even, what to do. I would, if I could possibly remember.

"Come on."

Gob says to me, and leads me inside. His pace is quick, and mind would be quicker, if I was not following him. If I knew, where it was he is taking me. He leads me to the restrooms, and I raise an eyebrow to this. What confuses me more, is when he turns on a shower.

"Lie her in the water. All we can do now, is hope."

I do as he says, even though I do not want to let her go. The water drips on me, as my hands remain under her, and I stare at her. In fondness, wonder, in curiosity and sadness. I hope, this plan will work, as I stand and return to Gob's side.

"What will this do?"

The water is filled with radiation, it will only make her sick, but something tells me to listen to Gob.  
"Charon, what the hell? You get knocked in the head or some shit? Dez's is like us, remember? Radiation, healing, all that happy bullshit."

I stare at him, blinking. He stares back, lighting a cigarette. He offers one to me, and I take it. He lights it.

"…She was not lying?"

I ask as I inhale, missing the calmness that smoking offers.

"What? What the fuck you talkin' about?"

Gob does not seem as relieved to see the girl as she described. Is this not her friend? Perhaps he is more focused on helping her for now, than rejoicing in her return.

"I…do not remember. I have suspicions that my former employer caused me to forget them. The girl, Dez, spoke of many things. I did not believe them."

"Oh for fucks sake!"

Gob says, throwing his hands in the air. I remain silent, not seeing his reaction befitting.

"Look, just…fuckin' focus on her. Get the memories back when you fuckin' can. Dez exaggerates, but whatever she fuckin' said is prolly true. I'm too fuckin' shocked and tired to put up with this madness."

I say nothing, but return my gaze to the girl. The blood has stopped flowing, and the water cleaned the wound. I see now, just a red stain and a hole where the bullet entered her shirt. Throwing my cigarette down, I walk towards her. It does not matter to me, if I get wet. I do not care, that my black shirt is soaking with her blood and water, or even that the water is near boiling hot. It will only help her.

Kneeling down, I stroke her wet cheek, moving her wet hair. I place my hand over her heart. It beats, no pauses, no hesitation, it beats. She is alive, and I am…happy. Yes, yes happy. That is the word. The word to describe my emotion. Happy, she is alive.

"Dez?"

I call, rubbing her cheek gently with my thumb. Her skin is warm, and I do not know if it is from the water, or from her life returning. Her chest moves under the weight of my arm, her head turns, her eyes open. They meet mine, as they focus and her pupils dilate.

"…Charon…"

She says with utter relief. Shakily, she raises her hands, and takes my face in them. I stare back at her, urges that feel so familiar and so unknown, rush and surge through me. Happy, now, is too small of a word, to describe what it is I am feeling.

"Where…are…we?"

Dez is obviously tired still. I glance behind me at Gob, who shakes his head and leaves the room. In his eyes, I can see the relief.

"Tenpenny Tower."

I tell her, giving back my attention. She does not smile, she simply looks around. I turn the water off, secure in the fact that she is alive, and look down at her.

"I…"

Her sentence remains unfinished, but I know. She wants me to take her to her place of residence, to her home. Scooping her wet body in my arms, I feel such a strong, warm, comforting emotion, as her head rests in the crook of my neck. I hold her tight, hugger her, almost.

"I will take you to rest now. You are safe."

"You…always keep me safe, Charon…"

She whispers to me, tender, full of gentle affection. I look down at her, as I exit the bathroom. I know, where it is I am going. I have walked these floors before, have spent much time here before, I can feel it, the presence of my old self seeping all around me. Most importantly, I can feel her, too. Her presence, her scent, as if she has left it all around this place. As if, these walls hold our most intimate and private secrets.

"Yes."

I reply, unknowing a better answer. Her grip around my neck tightens, her arms are warming, her breath is hot on my collarbone. I will place her in her bed tonight, and lay my shirt to dry. I will watch over her, as she sleeps, and make sure that no harm comes to her. She is special to me, this girl, this Dez.

I step on to the old, wooden elevator as the door opens. Darkness soon engulfs us, as the door slides closed, and we begin our journey upward. In the silence, the darkness, I can hear her breathing. Slow, shallow, but alive. She will be weak, I assume, for a few days. It will be up to me to care for her, feed her, help her do what she needs to do. For now, I will simply lie her down, and wait till she is asleep. When she is, I will seek Gob out, and ask him questions I am sure he has the answers to.

Arriving on the top floor, my feet move me, knowing better than my mind. I follow them to a door, and do not hesitate to open it. Once inside, I am greeted by a large bed, and random, useless object scattered around. A one-eyed teddy bear stares up at me, as I step over it. The girl moans softly, as if it is with pleasure, as I turn down the covers of the already messy bed, and place her in it.

"Don't…"

She says, refusing to let go of my neck.

"You must lie here, and sleep. Do not worry, I will be here when you wake."

I could possibly say morning, but the sky is turning pastel. The sun is rising, and a cool breeze floats in through an open balcony door. I am careful to cover her with the sheets, as well as the blanket, concerned that the morning chill will harm her.

"Promise?"

She asks, her eyes closed and hair sprayed in all directions. Tenderly, I stroke her cheek, enjoying the softness of her face.

"Yes. I promise."

Before falling into a deep, dreamless slumber, Dez smiles at me, and it warms even the coldest parts of my body. Gently, I take my wet shirt from her, and bring it outside. The hot, afternoon sun will dry it, and I lie it over the thick balcony rail. For a moment, I stop, and look at the sun rising in the East. It is large, pink and orange, barley awake itself at this hour. I should also be getting rest, but I do not feel tired. My mind is whirring, whizzing with different thoughts and emotions. I feel my contract in my pocket as I shift over to walk back inside. I wonder now, what it is I must do, to regain the memories I feel I have lost.


	68. Familiar Faces, Familiar Places

Quietly, I close the door to the girl's apartment. Gob is located somewhere on the second floor. Do not ask me how I know this, I just simply do. I wait impatiently for the elevator, and the familiar craving of a cigarette hits me. I know Gob will have some, so I will ask him for one. The door opens and I step in. The elevator is old, pre-war, wooden. It sounds like it has not been updated since the Great War. As long as it does not break while I, or Dez, am inside, then I do not care.

I come to the ground floor, a bit annoyed there are no stops for the second. I am tired, my body sore, and I wish to rest. Not climb stairs like I find myself doing. Still, there are things I must speak to Gob about. Things I feel comfortable discussing only with him. Things that, perhaps, I should already know. And also, things that may help me recover the memories I have lost.

When I see his door, I know it is his. There is no doubt in my mind, that this is his residence. So without hesitation, I knock, and wait. Shuffling is heard inside, and I am relieved to find him still awake. That, or I have woken him. Either way, he is awake now, and he must speak with me.

"Yeah?"

He says, opening his door wide. I do not wait to be invited inside, and he does not stop me as I barge in. Rather, he moves aside, and quietly closes the door. A child is here. I know it. We must speak quietly.

"I need to speak with you."

I tell him, digging in my pocket for my contract. Gob notices the look upon my face, a look that I did not know I was showing. He hands me a cigarette, and I light it with the lighter he offers. Motioning to two chairs beside his large bed, Gob sits down. I sit across from him, the curtains blocking the rising sun.

"What's up?"

Gob asks, and I can tell he is slightly worried. I shake my head, shrugging as well. I wish to speak with him, but I do not know where to begin.

"I spent time with the Outcasts."

"Yeah, I know that much. You two been gone a while."

"While there, something happened. I do not remember what, exactly, but I cannot remember the girl, Dez."

A silence befalls us. Somewhere in the room, I can hear the child breathing slowly, lost in a dreamland slumber. Gob and I share glances at one another, they do not say much, but yet at the same time, they speak volumes.

"Yeah, yeah Dez told me."

He says, inhaling deeply on his cigarette. I do the same to mine, and for the first time in my life, I feel like less of a person, or rather, being. There are no words, no race, for someone like me. Someone, who has done the things I am guilty of doing.

"She spoke of me to you?"

"Yeah after you uh, helped her get back here. She was worried sick. I can see why, now. Anyways, what exactly do you need? Is she alright?"

His concern for her moves me inside. I stare blankly at him, all of the questions I came to ask, somehow, vanished.

"She…she will be just fine. Rest, is what she needs now."

Shifting around, I feel my contract grazing against my leg. Curiosity causes me to pull it out, and I do. Feeling it between my fingers, I unfold the parchment. Words are carelessly scribbled on, as if done by a young child. The font is slanted in some areas, but clearly sets my limitations, and states my obligations. Gob coughs, and causes me to peer over at him behind my contract.

"Is that uh, the new contract?"

I nod in reply, and he outstretches his hand to me. Giving him my contract, the need to tell him he is now my employer washes over me. I hold back from saying it, hold back from the power that it holds over me. Carefully, I watch as he reads it over, shaking his head, and looking up at me from time to time. Nervously, I grip the knee of my pants, as I place my cigarette on the floor and stomp it with my boot.

"Charon, I'm gonna do somethin' that's prolly gonna piss you off. But you gotta promise not to kill me."

"Alright."

I hope he is not going to attack me, or even try to control me with the contract. If he gives an order, I am unsure if I will obey or not. I wait, watching him, as he takes the paper in both hands. Before I can stop him, he begins to tear my contract in half. Once, twice, many more times until the pieces fall to the floor similar to party confetti. I stare at the remains of the thing that once held me in its grasp. Stare, until Gob's voice speaks.

"If you don't remember now, then you never will."

I wait. I wait, and try to remember. Closing my eyes, I concentrate to six years ago. Why, I do not know. Six years ago, I felt something. I felt alive, human, and the hot breath of another on my own body. It takes a moment, but I remember. I remember Dezbe beneath me, panting, calling my name in ecstasy, as her nails gripped my back. The sensations the vivid memory brings is overwhelming, and I have to hold my head in pain.

"…Fuck."

I say, remembering six years worth of lost time, of empty space.

"You okay?"

I look up at Gob, and give him a half-assed smirk.

"Yeah I'm fine."

His eyes widen a bit, before he smirks back.

"You know how fuckin' spooky it is to know how easy you can be manipulated? Like really, who would even have the balls to try that shit?"

"The Outcasts, apparently."

Standing up, I hold back from hitting the chair in anger. I pace over to the wall furthest from Gob, and rest my tired head on the shelf.

"What you gonna do now? Remember anything?"

"I remember _everything_, Gob. I remember every last fucking bit. I'm not sure who I'm more pissed at, me or them."

"You? Why'd you be pissed at yourself?"

"For being weak-minded and like you said, easily manipulated. This can _not_ happen again. I put myself in danger. I put Dez in danger. I nearly fucking _killed_ her."

"But you didn't."

"What?"

"You didn't. She told me when she got back here you helped her escape. Even with the contract, you refused to kill her, even if you didn't know why."

"I didn't help her, either."

"But you didn't kill her. Hurt her, yeah I'd say you did, but she's alive now, because of you."

"It still doesn't sit well with me."

"Well no, I wouldn't expect it to. But I'm just saying, she's got to be quite the person if even though you couldn't remember her, you didn't kill her."

I see Gob's logic. Even though he's trying to comfort me, I still feel angry. Angry that the Outcasts, people who Dez and I once trusted, would do this. Angry that even now, when all is said and done, there are still people out there wanting to conquer the world. Didn't they learn? Doesn't the past two-hundred and more years have anything else to prove? The world is in utter ruins because of people like the Enclave, Brotherhood, and Outcasts. I suppose they all fell asleep in their history classes.

"You're right, but it doesn't change the fact that I was still taken advantage of."

"Then make sure it doesn't happen again."

"How? Anyone familiar with anything about me will know of…you wouldn't understand, Gob."

"No, probably not. But right now, I think you're safe. Ain't no way anyone's getting in this tower, and I don't really think they'll try. For now, I think you need to just go upstairs and be with Dez."

"I should apologize."

"Yeah, that wouldn't hurt either."

"I'd like to take this entire situation as lightly as you, Gobtholomew, but I'm having a hard time resting easy with the thought that anyone could take control over me that quickly."

"Well, why don't we do this. I'll make a contract, and order you to not listen to anymore contracts, and then rip up your contract."

"Upon destruction of that contract I am no longer in it's power. That's a stupid plan."

"Well it's all I've got. I haven't slept in fuckin…ages. My brain hurts."

"Why not?"

"Cuz I been up all the damn time worryin' about you two. Thought I'd never see either one of you again."

"Your concern is appreciated but not needed. So long as Dez is with me, she's safe."

"Yeah? You call safe her being up in that bed holding on for dear life?"

I turn to look at Gob, and instantly he knows. He knows what he said was wrong, uncalled for, unjust, but…right. I can tell by the look on his face he feels bad, but in reality, he was only speaking the truth.

"No, no I suppose not."

"Hey, I didn't mean to say it like that. I'm jus' sayin' maybe you and Dez should ya know, get outta here."

"What?"

"Get out of the Capital Wasteland. There's a world out there, find a place and hide out. Get away from this."

"I would enjoy that but I feel Dez has other plans."

"What plans?"

"She came back after five years, Gob. This is her home, I highly doubt she'll want to leave it, especially now."

"What are you not tellin' me?"

Sighing, I fold my arms in front of me.

"The Outcasts and apparently the West Coast faction of the Brotherhood, have a plan. Remember the democracy we were so fooled into having before the Great War?"

"Yeah…"  
"They want to instill that, but wipe out anyone who disagrees."

"Communism?"

"Socialism, more or less. But yes, communism as well I suppose."

"Fuck. So…wait, what does this have to do with Dez?"

"She doesn't want it to happen. I can't see many people disagreeing with her, either. It has been two-hundred years. We're doing fine, if not better, than we ever were before. People work, live, and survive with no means or worries. We use caps as currency. Some people, don't even accept currency. In my eyes, we've finally become that 'free country' everyone was so damned patriotic about. Why ruin it?"

"Dez thinking she can stop an army doesn't surprise me."

I smile a bit at Gob, shaking my head.

"No, me neither."

"So what you gonna do? Jump on her bandwagon or hogtie her ass and drag her kicking and screaming?"

"I don't know, Gob. After she is well, perhaps I'll discuss with her what she wants to do."

"She'll want to fight, Charon. And you know you won't talk her out of it."

Rubbing my eyes, I sigh. Gob's right. She will want to fight, and she won't take 'no' for an answer.

"She has to understand she is one girl, and that cannot stop an army."

Gob says nothing to my sentence, and I decide it's time to leave. I owe Dez an apology, an explanation. I owe her a lot, and I feel I need to be with her. She's stuck by me through this entire ordeal, from her return till now. It's the least I can do.

With my hand on the knob, I open the door. I'm about to step out, when Gob calls.

"You know, Charon…she is one girl. But, try telling that to the Enclave, the Brotherhood, and to everyone she gave pure water to. She's one girl, but she's one fuckin' dangerous girl."

I want to say nothing, and leave it at that, but I can't.

"And she's older now, Gob. She's nowhere near what she once was at nineteen."

As if on cue, a blood-curdling scream can be heard from the foyer.

"Charon!"

I have to stifle a laugh.

"You sure about that?"

Gob says as I slam the door to his apartment. No, no I am not sure. Her scream mimics the one she did when the Talons had their guns to her head, it sounds like the one she did in Underworld when Greta kissed me. It reminds me of all the times she's called my name, in help, and in pleasure. I had no other choice. I had no other desire stronger. I ran to her. I ran.


	69. Here Right Now, There's Interest in Your

(Dez)

When I opened my eyes at first, it was all dizzy and blurry and gross. I felt instantly nauseous, but I knew I wouldn't puke, but I wanted to. I can't focus on anything to make it clear, and my body was telling me two different things. On the one hand, I'm freezing. On the other hand, I'm overheating. I know I'm sick, and blah blah blah, but can't I just be sick without all these side-effects? No, I suppose not. Then it wouldn't be called 'sick' it would be 'normal'. Great.

My hair is wet, and it makes my pillow wet. My body was wet when Charon put me in this bed, so this whole side of the bed is wet, too. It makes me uncomfortable, but I don't feel like moving right now. The room is glowing a pinkish color, so I guess that means the sun is coming up. How long has it been since I've seen the sunrise? Wow…wow I don't really remember. Have…Charon and I ever watched a sunrise together? Like sat down, and watched it? No, no I guess not.

You think about a lot of things, when you're close to dying. It's a strange kind of awareness. I guess I can try my best to describe it. You're awake. You can see everything, and be totally aware of what's going on. If someone touches you, you can feel it. You can feel almost everything, except pain. As if…almost as if your body knows it's at its last point, and wants to give you something for enduring it for so long. Your mind just doesn't process pain. You know you're hurting, but it's numb. You're numb to almost everything. In your mind, where a bunch of thoughts would usually flow and stress you out, it's empty, and quiet. It gives you time to think about things, everything. I've never seen my life flash before my eyes, so I have a hard time believing that's what really happens. What I think happens is, your mind gets so quiet, you have nothing left to think about. So you think of yourself, your friends, family, those who were closest to you. You think of happy memories, and times spent laughing in the warm sun. You don't think of sad things, or bad times, just those warm, happy, fulfilling moments in your life.

I never had a lot of those, so I guess after a while I ran out. I remember when Charon was carrying me through the halls of the fort, between the gun blasts and cries of pain and suffering and him being all Charon-like, I started thinking of the little things. Of things we did together, and things that brought us happiness. I was sad, when I couldn't think of many things aside from sex. And fighting. But really, Charon and I never got to be normal. We never had the chance to. Something always interfered, or we simply had no time. I felt so sad about that, so sad in fact, that I remember thinking I couldn't die right then and there, because we still have so much to do.

We never saw the sunrise together. We've never had one of those 'date' things people in movies I saw in the vault had. We never talked of a future together. We never got to lay wrapped in one another's arms, for two days straight with just sex and breaks for meals. We always had to go somewhere the next day. We never really appreciated the little things. I remember wanting us to grow old together, and I was sad that I might not live to see that happen. We've never sat down and had a real nice dinner, with a bottle of Capital Wasteland wine, and talked about happy things. I felt like I was missing a huge part of my life, when that realization hit me. I felt…sad, lost, alone.

I guess that's why when I heard him and Henry talking, I decided to knock him out of the way. A well-aimed jolt to the back of the knee, and he was safe. I figured if it was my time to go, then it was my time. I couldn't let the both of us die. Charon by default has a longer lifespan than I could ever hope for, and he's done more for me than I have for him. So I knocked him away. I didn't even feel the pain when the bullet hit me, then left. I just saw the blood. I could feel the blood, more than I could have felt anything else at that point. I remember thinking 'This isn't really thick'. Which, is really weird to think of I guess, but it was the only thing that made sense before I fell down. Losing nearly all of my blood, then losing more, kind of thins things out and puts everything into perspective.

We both ended up getting out of there. I was kind of half-awake when he was carrying me home. I wasn't thinking about much. Just how much I loved him, really. How I wanted him to be the Charon I remembered, but even if he never was that way again, I'd still love him. People often jump from boyfriend to boyfriend. Like Amata. She was with all the Tunnel Snakes, and by the time I was hauling ass out of there, she'd slept with a few married men on the side. I had Butch, and that was it, really. Then Charon, then the boys in New Vegas. But I wouldn't call them boyfriends, just probably easy lays. I've always loved Charon. Since that night in Megaton, when he seemed like the only real, solid thing I had left in the world. We may bicker, fight, and do all of that on a daily basis, but I'm crazy about him. So crazy, that I never realized how crazy until now. I can't picture a life without him. My father wasn't even that important to me. Yeah, he was my dad, but we weren't close. Maybe if things were different, I would have been a bit more distraught over his dying. But we weren't.

Charon's been the only real family I've ever had. Gob went off with Nova and procreated Zack. He had his family, there wasn't room for me. So…where did that leave me? With Charon. With my dutiful, employed, bodyguard who'd let me cuddle next to him in the cold desert night, and who'd kill anything I pointed at with no questions asked. When you have no one else, and when there's someone consistently there for you, especially in this world, you fall in love. In a love that…that I don't really think existed in the vault. People were disposable in there. But here, life is real delicate, ya know? There's one of Charon, and one of Dezbe. That's two wholes, when you put them together.

Struggling, I swing my legs over the bed, and use the night stand to sturdy myself. Dogmeat isn't anywhere in this place, so I make a mental note to ask Gob about him later. I'm sure he'll be happy to see me, and I'll be happy to see him, too, but I just want to be with Charon right now. The nausea isn't making this whole standing process easy, but I fight it. Just like I fight the horrible weakness in my legs, and the shaky feeling I feel all over. I must be something sick. I bet it's like, seventy degrees in this room right now, but I'm freezing my small ass off.

Making my way out of the apartment, I use the walls to hold myself up. I don't trust myself to stand alone. Charon didn't keep me in that shower for as long as he should have, but I can't get too pissed at him for that. I mean, he didn't know, _doesn't_ know. Wherever he is, hopefully he's still here, I hope he's happy to see me.

The elevator makes me sick, and I can't hold back my sickness. I puke in the corner of the dark room.

"Oops…"

I say, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. Well, I sure as hell am not cleaning up that mess. Leave it to someone else. After all, I just survived a traumatizing ordeal. Kind of. Not the worst situation I've been in, but that's what I'll say if anyone starts giving me shit for it. Or I'll blame Dogmeat, wherever he may be. I just can't wait to get off of this thing, it's really not making me feel too great.

When it finally stops, and the door opens to let me out, I sigh a bit. Finally. Even though I'm on sturdy ground now, I still feel like everything is spinning. There's no way I'm going to make it far on my own in this condition, so I have to find Charon. I get to about the middle of the foyer, before I grip an empty chair for help. There's no one here, it's pretty early still, so I figure everyone is sleeping. I don't care. They have their entire ghoul lives to sleep.

"Charon!"

I scream with every ounce of energy in my body. If he's in this tower, he'll here me. Unless he's outside. Then, then I'm out of luck. Until someone else wakes up and finds it in their heart to help me back up the puke-elevator and into my wet bed. A door slamming from somewhere near Gob's apartment catches my attention. The patter of running footsteps makes me turn to face the stairwell to my left. I abuse the chair's use and turn it with me. I wait, wait, and wait some more. Then…then I see him.

He stands at the top of the steps, just looking at me. Looking at me, looking at him. My heart feels like it stops beating, at the sight of him. His leather armor in the morning sunlight, his height and muscular body making my eyes jump and do the jig of life. I smile stupidly up at him, and watch as he jogs down the stairs. My Charon. My one and only.

He runs to me when he gets to the bottom. He doesn't hesitate scooping me up in his arms, and without him even having to say anything, I know it's him. The Charon I fell in love with. The one I left behind five years ago. I can't hold back the tears, and between you and me, I don't want to. I've missed his arms around me. I've missed how strong they are, how safe they make me feel, how gentle they hold me. Every night before he helped me escape, I'd think of this. Of him holding me. The silence between us on those long two weeks, killed me. I'm happy now, to have him back.

Burying my face in the crook of his neck, as I feel my feet leave the ground, I don't feel so alone anymore. I don't feel so sick. All I feel is the warmth and comfort that I get from simply having him around. From him, just being him. I wet his shoulder, his neck, but I don't care. I don't care that I'm probably making an ass of myself, that people are probably watching. Even though we're standing still, I feel the entire room spinning around us. In a good way. Like the way a camera would over two lovers in this situation. Just spinning round and round, dizzying the audience, but getting the point through that these two people love each other more than anyone else in the world.

"What are you doing up?"

He asks, as I lift my head from the warm spot on his neck. Suddenly, I don't feel so cold anymore.

"I…thought you left."

His presses his forehead against mine, brushing my hair behind my ear. I close my eyes, and hear him sigh, and I know there's a smirk across his face. His hand brushes my cheek gently, as he holds me up in the air, effortlessly, with one arm.

"No. I'd never leave you, Dezbe."

Tears still stream down my face, but I smile. I smile, keeping my eyes shut tight.

"I have missed your smile."

He says, and I open my eyes. Charon's looking at me, and it makes me smile wider, dumber. What was I thinking when I left him? Had I gone mad? I think I had. Temporarily lost my mind.

"Take me back up. Stay with me."

I don't bother to ask how he got better. I don't need to. I know. The contract is gone, and now he's free to be him. But I don't want to think about that now. I don't want to think of the impending doom that looms over us. I don't want to think of the hard times we just endured, or the fact that he can still be taken advantage of. Right now, in this moment of my life, I don't care about that. All I care about, all I want to care about now, is he and I. I want to think of the adventures we could have. I want to think of all the ways I can drive him mad. I want to think of all the different ways I can get him to say he'll stay. I love hearing that. That he'll stay, and never leave. I got some serious abandonment issues, you know, with a dead mother and once-neglectful father. He's gotta live up to that.

When we get back to the apartment, Charon puts me right back in bed. I don't protest. I sit up, which is pretty difficult for me right now, and watch as he undresses. No sex tonight, even though I really want to go all ape-shit on him. I'm too weak. So I just watch, as he takes off his top, his belt, his boots, and then finally settles down next to me. He even went as far as to shut the door and make the room as dark as possible. I guess he wants me to rest. I'm kind of afraid to, though. I mean, I do want to wake up next to him, but I'm scared he won't be there.

"Charon?"

I say, annunciating the 'ch' sound.

"Yeah?"

He's busy pounding the shit out of his pillows, and I pause a bit to look at him. Here's this man, ghoul, who can kill an entire fleet of men with his bare hands. This man who has gone through hell and back, both by my side and saving me. This man who can mercilessly kill anyone in his path, if it means delaying his objective. And yet, here he is, beside me, shirtless, pounding the hell out of his pillows. I'm not sure if I should find this funny or slightly unsettling. When he finally stops and rests his head on them, I look down at him, and into his eyes. The room is so dark, you'd think it was night. I yawn, and let my body fall right beside his. My heart racing, with a mixture of excitement and sickness.

"I want to watch the sunrise."

I tell him, letting him run his fingers through my hair. Closing my eyes, I figure I can milk this moment, for all it's worth. Tomorrow, I'll ask him about all this mess. Tomorrow, we'll begin planning what to do. But for now, right now, I just want it to be about us.

"We can do that."

"I want you to teach me the stories of the stars, too. Someone in New Vegas mentioned that people way older than before the Great War had star stories. I want you to teach them to me. You know everything."

"I can teach you all the constellations."

"I want us to have a dinner on the balcony, with candles and wine and a good meal."

"Where is all this coming from?"

I open my eyes to look at him. His hand rests on my arm, and it keeps it warm. Even though we're piled under all these blankets, I still feel cold without him directly touching me.

"When…when we were escaping…I had time to think about things. About us. I want…I want to…make a life, I guess. Memories, with you. Good ones. There's enough bad ones for the both of us, I guess…I don't know…I'm not good with this wording shit."

"I understand."

Good, because I'm in no shape to try to explain it. I'd like to give a demonstration, but I think that'd probably include blowing something up. Hell, it'd get my point across.

"How do you feel about New York?"

I cock an eyebrow. New whosawhatsie?

"What? What the _hell_ is New York? And who are Romeo and Juliet?"

Charon blinks for a minute, his expression blank, before he answers me.

"It's a state, up North some ways. I thought perhaps you would like to travel there with me once you are well. There isn't anything I need to do or want up there, but I figured you might enjoy the trip. I won't go without you."

"Maybe. But who are Romeo and Juliet?"

"They're characters in an old play written by an even older author. Shakespeare."

"Will you tell me their story?"

"No, it is too long. Just know they were two star-crossed lovers who got themselves into a bigger mess than they intended and were utterly foolish, stupid, and naive, driven by lust."

"Huh. Sounds a lot like us."

"There's love in there for you."

I smile at his sweet words. He presses his hand to my forehead, and frowns. I frown back, telling him that even though I'm sick, I'm still Dez.

"You need to lie back. I'm worried about you."

"I'm laying down, Charon. I just…don't want to sleep."

"Why?"

"I don't want to wake up if this is all a dream."

He smirks at me, his hand cupping my cheek. I close my eyes and wrap my fingers around his. It's peaceful, here in this darkened room. No noise, no gunfire, no impending doom awaiting us. Here, it's just me and him, him and me. I can't help but smile. Smile, and let a rare infatuation shine through in my first-time twinkling eyes. Five, six years ago, if you told me all of this would be happening now well…well I'd have shot you in the face while manically laughing. But here it is, happening right before my eyes. I'm not fighting it, like I did when I first met Charon. Instead, now, I'm embracing it.

I ran from him in the past. I would run from him, but cry when I needed his help. When I left for New Vegas, I left for self-discovery. I left to find something that I thought I didn't have. I was running away from Charon, hurting him before he could try to hurt me. I don't think he'll hurt me now. No, no I really don't believe he will. In fact, I think I'd be lost without him. I think, he'd be lost without me, too.

"Dez?"

Charon says, as I close my eyes. His hand is still cupping my face, and the pillow is soft beneath my head.

"Hm?"

"What are you thinking of?"

"Us."

"What about us?"

"How much we've changed since we first met."

Charon strokes my cheek before taking his hand away. I open my eyes to look at him, my hair still damp, my body still sickeningly weak. It's getting warmer in here, which means the day is growing, but that's alright with me. I have all the time in the world right now to be with him.

"We have changed, haven't we?"

"For the better, I think."

"As do I. Now, rest, please."

"That's the one thing about you that hasn't changed."

I grumble as I pull the sheet up to my shoulder. Charon sighs in the darkness of our blackened apartment, and curls up beside me. You know, my life can't end without Charon. It wouldn't be happy if I was without him. I guess that's why I wasn't happy in New Vegas. Oh will you look at me, I'm such a big philosopher…


	70. It Takes Two, to Whisper Quietly

I don't wake up till sometime the next day. I feel better, but not great. Like, if I _had_ to I could run for my life. But if I didn't have to, I probably couldn't. My body aches and hurts and I just feel like shit. Better than before, but still not as healthy as Dez likes to be.

Yawning, I sit up and look beside me. Charon's not there, but the cool breeze coming in from the balcony tells me he's out there. There's no sun streaming in from the open door, so I figure it's sometime the next night. Like, if today were yesterday this would be tomorrow night. It makes sense to me, so fuck you.

Getting up, I sluggishly stand and do some quick stretches to make sure all my joints and limbs work. They do. There's also a pack of cigarettes on the nightstand beside me, and damn I feel like it's my tenth birthday all over again. Snatching the pack up, I dig one out and light it eagerly. The sweet taste of old nicotine floods my mind, and creates the lightheaded sensation that comes with smoking for the first time in a long time.

Once I regain myself, my composure, I make my way to the balcony. Leaning against the door quietly, I smoke my cigarette and enjoy the view. Charon's leaning over the rail, his elbows supporting his body. He has his black shirt on, without his leather armor on top. The moonlight flows down over him, as he looks up at the billions and trillions of stars above. His muscles reflect shadows under his shirt, his strong back prominent even in the night. A cool, but warm, breeze blows smoke away from me. I look down at his waist, his combat knife strapped securely to his belt, his legs crossed at the ankles. The patches of hair on his head shine a pale orange, like my hair almost, against all of this. I almost don't want to move. He has this look of peace on his face, and I kind of don't want to fuck that up for him.

"Hey."

I whisper, like someone is listening. He looks back at me, smiling.

"Hey."

He whispers back. We're like two kids, sharing deep secrets under a blanket tent in a bedroom together. I walk towards him, throwing out the rest of my cigarette. As I get closer, he lifts one of his arms to allow me to fit under it, and against him. I take advantage of that, and squish myself as close to him as I can, and join him in just looking at the stars. Softly, Charon lifts his arm, and points to the stars.

"That's Heracles. He was the only one to cause fear in Charon in Underworld."

I squint, but I can't see what exactly he's pointing at. There's so many stars, and they're all so jumbled together. I pretend I see, though, and nod.

"How'd he do that? Get past Charon, I mean."

"He glowered. To pass on the river, you must either be dead, or paying, or be willing to bribe. Heracles wasn't any of that. He was a hero, and being in the presence of such a being caused Charon to simply allow him to ride across."

"So, Heracles was a true hero?"

"Or so the story goes."

I don't know the story, but I know people.

"I think Heracles got drunk and made it all up."

Charon chuckles and points again.

"The Big Dipper."

Now that one, I can see. It looks like a pan, or a pot, or something. The little things. Tonight, Charon and I are enjoying the little things.

"You know so much, you know."

"Over two hundred years of life, and you pick things up along the way."

I know almost all there is to know about Charon. But, I want to know more.

"Charon?"

"Mhm?"

"…You…you never really clearly defined anything you were to me. I mean, I know your past, and I know who you are. I know what you are. I know your likes, somewhat, and your dislikes. But what are you good at? I mean, you know?"

Charon and I look at one another for a minute, before he goes away. Well, not 'go away' really, but he just starts to walk to the other end of the balcony. Feeling risky, I hop on the rail and sit my butt down on it. Charon instantly turns around, and I think he's assessing the situation. Coming back over, he leans beside me. I know he's here next to me, in case I fall. It makes me feel…not so alone.

"I am trained to do any task I am presented with."

"Like what?"

"Name something."

I think for a minute.

"Interrogate?"

"I am an expert in torture and interrogation. Resisting and performing."

"Cooking?"

"I can make a meal from scraps of meat and a stick."

"So I've seen. What about…normal things? Like…oh I don't know, you tell me."

"If there is a task in existence, I have been trained to do it, Dezbe. Not because I picked it up along the way, but because it was included in my training. I was designed to be perfect in whatever it was my employer could possibly want me to do. Mainly warfare, but other things as well."

"You're just built for it, aren't you Charon? For everything. For this life, for pre-war life, you just know how to do it all."

"I suppose."

I bite my lip and look away from him. He pulls something out of his pocket, and soon offers me a lit cigarette. I take it from him.

"I envy you."

I say, looking at my feet.

"Why?"

"Because I had to learn everything. I had to force myself to do all I have done. I wasn't born into this…this entire training period where professionals showed me how to do what. I can't cook. I can't do much of anything besides shoot things. You can do it all. I wish I could. I wish I was half as smart as you."

"You forget, Dez, that I was not also born into this life. It was forced upon me, the same way your life was forced upon you."

"…Yeah…I guess you're right."

"Dez, you were created out of love. In this world, your mother and father loved one another to create something to show the world how much they loved each other. They created you. Out of that love, came despair, when your mother died. But you lived on. You, will forever be the living example of what two people do when in the deepest form of caring and intimacy. I was not created of love, Dez. I was created, and taken, and built. I was not designed or made to be a person. I was molded into the personification of death to help wage wars. I was constructed and trained to be the perfect war machine. Ever obeying, unrelenting, merciless, with no second thought. I was not taught the value of life. In a way, it is _I_ who envies who envies _you_."

I stare at him, mouth wide, eyes big. What? Charon, envies _me_? I'm just some girl from Vault 101. Nothing grand nothing bid. Here, he stands before me. Charon. The perfection of all things manly and killer. And he…he envies me?

"What? Why?"

His blue eyes meet mine, and something in me sinks. Maybe it's the way he's looking at me, but I can tell you, I don't like it.

"Because, you lived a normal life, as normalcy will now allow. Because of your freedom. Even now, I have restraints and am still bound by certain areas of my training. But you, Dezbe, are free. I was once nothing more than a machine. A tool, used for the advancement of the human race. The advancement of America. There were no tender embraces in my past, no motherly love, no fatherly advice. It was simply do this, or be punished. I became exactly what they wanted me to be. Even after they were gone, I continued to live and breathe, the last of my kind. I was nothing more than a puppet, to be manipulated by whomever held my contract…until you came along."

We're quiet. We're both in the same boat, kind of. Charon wasn't ever really a person. Just like he said, he was only a tool. But there's something about us. Something about Charon and I that's been there from the very beginning. In each other, we can find comfort. We can find quiet, and we can find…everything we've ever wanted.

"Charon?"

His eyes always flash when I whisper his name, or cry it out in danger, or moan it in pleasure. They flash, like it's the first time he's ever heard me say it.

"Yeah?"

"Tell me…tell me about back then? About what it was like?"

He knows what I mean. His jaw clenches and he sighs.

"It is not a nice tale to tell, Dez."

A warm breeze hits me, and I run my fingers through my hair. Using my voice of persuasion, I ask again.

"Charon, you can tell me anything, you know. It'll do you good, to talk about it."

He's reluctant, but I know he's going to tell me. I jump down from the rail, and together we sit on the floor of the balcony. Cigarettes between us, I prepare myself for the story of Charon's past. It'll be my first time hearing it. I'm excited like a Brahmin in a shit-pit.


	71. As the Hands Turn With Time

(Charon)

I don't know the year. I can't remember. I am fifteen. I have been in the facility fifteen years, training for nine. Today I hold a real gun in my hand for the first time. They want me to shoot a target. _Stand to attention! Worthless beings! You are nothing! If your weapon is weak, you are weak! Back straight, arms up! Fire!_ I don't think, I simply act. My finger squeezes the trigger, and I watch the target. I miss. Only two of us hit it. Two, of five boys and girls in the yard. Our officers and trainers hang their heads in shame. There is more screaming._ Failures! All of you! Failures! You will not receive rations today! For every bullet that misses, is another day without food! Fire again!_

I do. I am already starved with hunger. My ribs stick from beneath my worn uniform. The meals I was allowed to eat this week has been worked off. I graduated my Level 1 Hand-to-Hand training. I tried my hardest. I refused to accept the word 'failure'. It cost me a pound of flesh. A pound, that now resides on the back of the fish-hooked whip they used, when I refused to leave the sparring ring. I have no regrets. I finished, with the highest markings ever awarded in the facility.

My bullet hits the target. Not a bull's-eye, but it hits. I do not lost my rationing for the next day. My stomach makes noise in hunger, my body screams with exhaustion. By now, I have learned and been trained to ignore these sensations and urges. They are for the weak. A girl standing beside me catches my eye. She looks at me, sadly, as she holds her gun. Blood seeps through the back of her shirt, soaking it almost. I feel pity for her, for a moment, before I remind myself she had done something to deserve it. They do not punish us unfairly. Only if we disobey, if we fail. I will not fail. I refuse.

Seventeen. Muscle has replaced hanging flesh. My skin is dark from the spring and summer sun. My hands roughed, broken, calloused from the training in the harsh winter. I trained barefoot, in the snow, in my shambles and thin fabric they call 'uniform'. I took the abuse of the harsh winter. I succeeded in all tasks they created for me. They were astounded.

Now, it is warmer, but my body is frozen inside. I have not eaten in a week, but I feel nothing from it. I train in hand-to-hand once more with a female. The same female who looked at me years ago. We fight to win, we fight to finish, we fight, to avoid punishment. I bring her close, holding her, ready to give a knocking blow.

"Please…"

She whispers, her blonde hair stroking my face in the wind. I let her win. I am punished. I hate her for that.

I watch the girl at the execution. A week ago, I received merciless punishing. My officers knew I had let her win. For my display of weakness, they tortured me, punished me. Two of my fingers have no nails. My back throbs with lashes and the scabs split when I lean forward or bend down. The bottoms of my heels are sliced open, and bleed with every step. I am not sad to see her demise. Not sad, to watch as the weakest link, is destroyed from our system. She was not strong enough. Her death, brings a small comfort to our community. In the back of my mind, against my better training, I cry for her. I cry, because in the midst of what we here call normalcy, she was insanity. She looked at me, and saw me as an equal.

Her moans and cries go unheard, as she forgets the lifetime of training. As they torture her with cattle prods, as they make a mockery and an example of her. I want to help. I remain seated. _She is a disgrace! Her insolence to us, her betrayal, cannot be forgiven. May God have mercy on this pitiful and weak being! May this, be a lesson to you all!_ They execute her medieval style. Beheading. I watch as her head rolls on the platform, in the middle of the grassy Pentagon center. I look in her eyes, and she stares back. Her head blinks at me, and I blink back. It is not the first execution I witnessed, but it is the only one I remember.

I am twenty-two. My hair is long, a short buzz-cut going ignored for two years create it. I wear a band on my forehead to keep it from my eyes. I am taller than my officers. My chest is pronounced. I am strong, tall, my muscles showing the strong and fit soldier they have created. My eyes are blue, ice-cold. They hold no emotion, show no remorse. My jaw is strong, broad, square, showing strength, showing survival. I am given my leather armor for the first time. _It's armor for the poor, for poor like you. Poor, until you earn your ranking to deserve better._ I never earned that ranking. I refuse to wear anything else.

I am given my combat knife. They present it to me, with my newly given name engraved on the handle. It is in Latin. They present me with my shotgun. Its modifications not yet created. It is new, shining in the sun. They feel it is the best weapon for me. My employer, they say, will provide me with other firearms. But these, these they say, are my own. I have never owned anything in my life. Never felt how it feels, to have something to call one's own. I do not know what to do. I accept the gifts, as I stand in the office of my highest-ranking officer. Their eyes are wide, with me in their presence. I do not know why, I do not ask. I was not spoken to. I will not speak.

_Charon. You are not a person. You are a thing. You are an essence of death. You are nothing. Remember that, Charon, or you will not live to see another day. We will watch you. We are always watching you._ I fear them, so I believe them. I believe them, as they lead me outside. Four men, to my one. I dawn my new armor, it fits, and I enjoy the feel. My knife is at my side, my sun is on my back. I feel like I am meant for something now. I have completed the training far sooner than my classmates. I was not executed, I did not die, I survived.

They lead me to a clean-shaven man. I am shown my contract for the first time. _Read it once, do not touch it. You will abide by this. You will obey this. This, is all you are._ I skim it over, memorizing each bend of the ink, each curve of the words, every period, every statement. I know what I must do, what my objective is. Whomever holds this contract, is my employer, and I am to serve them, for good, for ill. I watch as my officer rolls up my contract. It is to be my life. It is now the guidelines and foundations of who I am. It creates my entire being. It, is everything I have worked so hard for.

My officer hands the clean-shaven man my contract. He looks at me, wryly, as if he doesn't trust me.

"Charon, is it?"

"Yes."

I say. My voice is strong, it is sturdy, unlimbering, unwavering. I am strong. I was trained to be nothing less.

"Charon, I am your new employer. Do you understand that?"

"Yes."

"You are to serve me. Whatever I may wish, you must do."

"Yes."

He continues on. He tests me, my strengths, my sight, my abilities as not only a soldier, but a partner. He doesn't view me as an equal, but in the way one would view a prized possession. An expensive car, a jeweled necklace. I hold no emotional ties to him. He is nothing to me, and I, him. But, he is my employer, and I must do as he commands.

His first order is for me to take my shirt off. We are at his home. It is exquisite, unlike any I have seen before. It is the first home I have ever been inside of. A trophy wife comes down the grand stairwell. She looks at me, her beauty fading behind layers of makeup. I see her as she is. A disgrace. I was trained to kill, to serve, to protect. I was not trained, to be eye-candy for the mistresses of my employers. He catches the look in her eyes. He points to one of my many scars.

"If you dare go near my wife, I will make these scars look like child's play."

"Physical violence on your part invalidates our contract."

"Then I shall make _you_ create new scars, Charon. Do not test me. You are here to protect, to obey, to submit. I am your employer. I am your God."

I believe him, because he is right. His wife departs, glancing back at me once more. I do not like her. She will become an obstacle in my objective. Her neediness as a woman will hinder my progress. She will fit herself in situations, and she will blame me. She will play victim. My employer does not trust me, my abilities. He will not believe me. It is exactly what happens.

His blood leaks on the golden-painted floor. The floor shines so brightly, I can see my own reflection. Blood, drips from the side of my face. It is my own. The blood on my hands, on my armor, is not. You bleed only when you are alive. The puddle pooling around my feet, tells me he hangs on. Unconscious, practically dead, he waits for the sweet relief. I hear no breathing, no noise, in the empty home. His wife, lie dead already beside him. I do not know what to do. I do not know, where I am to go. I look at the books that line the shelves. Books, my employer has not read. Books, he has made me read.

I have committed the sin of treachery for the first time. I have acted against a benefactor in my life, and have killed him in cold blood. I will go to the Ninth Circle of Hell when I leave this world. When that time comes, I promise myself I will fulfill my dutiful obligations until the world stops, and the Devil himself is dead. I did not know it then, but I was creating my own code, my own morals.

He struck me. I stand before my officer, soaked in fresh blood. By instinct, I knew where to go. The unfamiliar streets and alleyways of an unknown, and unnamed city to me, were not confusing. Like a lost child, desperate, I looked for the only home I had ever known. Where comfort was so scarcely given. Where life is not created of love, but of hate, of anger, of the idea of creating not people, but machines. It is the only place I have come to know. It is my home.

I explain in detail, how the incident began. Unlike my employer, my officers believe me. They trust my training, my inability to lie. They tell me I did good, that they suspected it would happen, that it was a test. I had never heard praise before. It lifted me. It made me want more. They tell me they have a new, better employer signed up for me. One, who has known of this project. Who has known of me. They say I will be assigned to him tomorrow. They dismiss me. I am permitted to do whatever I wish. I stare at my officer.

"I wish to remain here. I wish to obey whatever task you ask of me."

I do not know what to do, without an order. I cannot blink, without being told. My officer looks at me, his eyes wide. He knows what he has created. He does not know what to do. I came back weeks later, educated by books, to the place I call home. He knows this, he knows of my recent escapade with knowledge. What he does not know, is that I will continue to serve the people who created me. They, are my mother and father. They, are the ones who gave me life. They, are the ones who can take it from me.

I stand before my new employer. He wears a black suit. His hair is slicked back, graying in some areas. I do not know it then, but he will be the one who will take me to the vault. Not now, but after my contract has drifted. I will go through two more employers, before finding myself with him once more. This time, the second time, he accepts me. He takes me under his wing. He calls me, his son.

It is a week before we retreat. We are what they call 'ten minutes from disaster'. I am twenty-three. My employer, his name, his name is John. He asks me to call him John, he orders me to. It is the only thing, he has ever ordered of me. I am sitting in his small living room. He lives humbly, an apartment, small, two-bedroom, one bathroom. He has money that challenges even the richest in the world. Yet, he is a man of morale. It is then, it is now, he comes in and begins to speak. I listen. I admire him.

"Charon, I must speak with you."

"If conversation is what you wish, than I shall provide it."

He sighs, lighting an old pipe. The smell of tobacco fills my nostrils. I taste, my first cigarette.

"Charon, listen to me. What they did to you there, what they created I…I cannot agree with it. I've come to view you…as a son. As the son I was never able to conceive. You must promise me, that you will find in your mind the free will to one day think for yourself. You must promise me, to live by what I am about to tell you."

"If that is an order, I shall obey."

"Live humbly, Charon. If you come across wealth, do not trade in your possessions of lesser value, for greater. Your gun, your armor, your knife, will serve you until your dying day, better than any upgrade you could ever receive. Never let harm come to you, Charon. Never let a man strike a woman. If you see this, if you can free yourself from your own mind, do something about it. Charon, are you listening?"

"Yes."

"Live for yourself. If you become free, do whatever it takes to survive, but always spare the innocent. Spare them, for they have done nothing wrong. Do not hurt others to get your way. Do not cause grief to one, to save many. That one you spare, could save more than many. They could save all. Charon listen to your mind, your heart. Do what you can, to be a better person. To live up to society, and then overcome it. Do you understand what it is I am trying to tell you? The world is ending, Charon. Do not do things, to make it any worse than it is."

"I understand."

"I hope, my boy, I hope…"

We are now in Vault 101. The steel walls are bright. They shine down, blinding me, the lights. I have been here, for some time, but I am not use to it. My employer runs to our room, frantic, wild, his eyes screaming. He thrusts my contract into my hands.

"Run, Charon! Run! Escape! Leave this place, and leave it _now_! That's an _order_!"

I do not hesitate. Hesitation is not in my training. I do as I am commanded. I leave my employer, and I find I do not want to. His kindness, his ways, moved me. I pleased him, I tried, and that in turn opened my eyes, my mind, just slightly. I get to the doors, my escape, and I run through them. First, the metal gear, second, the wooden one built to keep the animals out. I burst through. I am frozen, by what I see.

Fires, greater than any building man-made, reach up towards the sky and heavens above. They engulf the city, the world, as I once knew. They burn so brightly, it feels like day. The smoke is thick, and I cough as I bend to kneel on the ground. Thick, black, smoke entangles and ensnares everywhere. The radiation burns my skin, but I ignore the pain. I was not trained, to give in to pain. I endure it. I endure the smoke, the burning, as I search for a safe place. I fight through blind monsters, things I have never seen. I fight screaming people, whose skin has melted from the heat, who can no longer bear to feel the weight of living. I end their lives for them, I save them, and I feel as if I am doing what is right.

I find one building. One in tact, one without fires. People run to it, a child screams. How long has this been going on? How long, have we lived in safety when the world we once knew burned like the fires of Hell? I hate myself, for being safe, while the world around me crumbled. Screaming, death, smoke, cries of children, it all hits me to fiercely that I nearly lose my hearing. I run towards the building. I run inside. I follow the crowd. I notice, I am the only one with a weapon.

The room is hot. People cower, clinging to strangers. They shake, they shiver, they cry, they stifle sobs. They look up at me. People bang on the doors. They scream. _Let us in! Let us! We'll kill you if you don't! We'll fucking kill you! Let us in!_ I know if I do, they will kill these people no matter what. I look around. I need an employer. I need an order. My body trembles in cold sweat. They bang, they yell louder. Two men stand and run towards the door. They try to hold it shut. I retrieve my gun. I will protect these people. In this room, in this place of the Museum of History, I will help these people, as my former employer so taught. Banners hang, as I realize where I am. I am in Hell. I am paying my dues, my debts, my sins, for the wrongs I have committed. A man, strangely calm, watches me from the top of the giant steps.

His name is Ahzrukhal.

He is the reason for my ghoulification.

He is the Devil incarnate.

He, sentences me, to my life, in the Ninth Circle.


	72. True Love

(Dez)

I stare at Charon. He smokes a cigarette, his eyes shining over as he remembers everything he just finished telling me. I don't know what to do. Obviously you can't say 'I'm sorry' or 'That must have been hard' to this kind of story. No, I can't, because if I said that I'd look like a dumbshit. Instead I just lean forward, and take his hand in mine. He looks at me, and I wish I could describe it. I wish I could describe the pain, the emotion, the sadness, the sincerity that flows through his eyes, but I can't. It's too much, and I can't put it to words.

"It's okay now, Charon."

I whisper in a soothing, motherly tone. As if by instinct, as if I know, I crawl over to him. Balancing on my knees, I take his head in my chest. For the first time since meeting him, even through all of our violent and intimate encounters, Charon is vulnerable. He is lost, and he is broken. He's hopeless, and he's lonely. My one gesture, my one calm movement, as I stroke his head, sends him into a whirlwind of sadness, that I've never seen before.

"Shh, it's alright, Charon."

I whisper, softly. I try to make it seem okay for him. I try to comfort him. I take the emotional wounds and burdens he carries, and I try to close them. I try to fill the holes that were left by his past. It's not my fault, but I want to fix it. I want to do everything I can, to save and comfort him. He tries to push me away, but I hold him tight. I hold him, and comfort him, like he's comforted me.

"Shh, shh, stop…it's okay, come here…calm down…it's alright. I'm here, Charon."

He stops fighting it. He stops resisting, and wraps his arms around me. Beneath the starry skylight, Charon breaks. For the first time in his life, he feels what it's like, to be exposed and vulnerable. And I bet, he feels just a bit more human because of that.

"Did you know her name?"

I whisper, as I gently stroke his head. He knows who I'm referring to.

"No. But she haunts me, every day."

"It's because of John, that you didn't kill me, isn't it?"

"…Yes."

I kiss the top of his head, holding him, cradling him.

"Then I thank him. I will thank him, every day."

"Why?"

"For bringing you to me."

Charon lifts his head from my chest. He looks at me, with his watery eyes, his moist face. He looks at me, and I realize now, what love means.

"He saved my life. I only wish I could have done the same."

He places his head back, and I continue to hum a tune, and stroke his head. My mind whirs, thinking, ticking. This person who meant so much to Charon, and eventually molded him, he's never told me about. Once, he did, but never like this. I feel I have to do something about it.

"When I'm better, we'll go to Vault 101."

I whisper, and he looks up at me. He moves from my grip, and kneels in front of me.

"Why?"

"There'll be things there, from him. From John. We can go, we can get them."

Charon nods, agreeing. I reach up and stroke the side of his face. A part of me is proud, happy that I could finally be there for Charon. Happy that for once, I got to save him from emotional turmoil.

"You didn't die that day in the Ninth Circle, because of him."

"I know."

"No, listen. When the gun was aimed at you, when I saw the look in your eyes, I knew. I heard his voice. For the first time, I broke my contract, an order. I listened to my former employer, to spare the innocent. Because of that, I gained freedom, and I gained you."

I smile at him. Not a cheery, bright, happy smile, but a small, sad one.

"I'm happy, you listened to him."

"I am, too."

He takes my hand from his cheek, and brings it to his lips. He kisses my hand, soft, tender, his ghoul lips never feeling more perfect. I decide right then and there, that I want to be with Charon. Forever.

"Charon?"

"Yes?"

"I'm immune to radiation."

"I know."

"I want to be with you, for as long as you live."

"Dez?"

"If I'm immune, then all I have to do is become a ghoul. I ran away from you countless times, and each time you followed me. Save for New Vegas, but I came back. I don't want to lose you, us, anymore."

"What are you saying?"

"It won't hurt, you said. If I become a ghoul. If I can sit in radiation long enough, it'll happen."

"Don't talk about that, Dez. You're young, you have much more time with me."

I can't help but think otherwise. I don't want to die and have Charon live. I don't want to have Charon die and me live. Of course if that happened I'd off myself but…but I can't think of laying there, dying somehow, and seeing the grief on Charon's face. We've been through so much together. I can't…stand to lose him again.

"We can't stay here much longer."

Charon tells me.

"Why?"

"The Outcasts will come for us."

Fugitives once more. It reminds me of Megaton and getting kicked out. O the Jefferson Memorial and the old kick I had in my boots and the spark in my shotgun.

"Then we'll run away together, just like we used to."

I tell him, my voice soft, calm, persuasive. He leans in and kisses me. His arms wrap around me, and I fall into him. He holds me, close, strong. It's the safest place for me. I feel his eyes watching me, carefully watching me, and I look up at him.

He strokes my cheeks, looking at me, analyzing me, as if I'm some sort of statue in the Museum of History. It makes me feel pretty, but at the same time makes me feel uneasy. I pull away from him, not because I don't like it, but really just because I don't feel that adequate. After hearing his story, hearing how he was built and trained, there's a part of me that just feels…insignificant.

I mean, look at me. I grew up in the cozy livings of Vault 101. My biggest worry was…well, I didn't have much to worry about. I stayed alone, I stayed with Butch. It was depressing, but that's it at the very worst. It was lonely, since no one wanted anything to do with me. It hurt, that people I hadn't yet met or recognized scowled at me when I was a kid. Like I didn't belong. I felt bad, thinking I did belong and just like everyone else I was born there. I was lonely and sad my entire life there. Feeling neglected by my father, and unwanted by everyone else. Still, in comparison to Charon, that's nothing to bitch about.

"What are you thinking about?"

Charon asks me, noticing the look on my face. I glance over at him. We're still kneeling, and our hands are still holding each other's.

"My life in the vault. How…different it our lives were."

"You know what I remember, Dez?"

"Hm?"

"I remember, when we first met, we were in the subway tunnels. I conned you into telling me your story. Into admitting you were that girl from Vault 101. When you screamed at me, giving reasons for the things you did, defending yourself when I called you spoiled, I remember thinking I wanted to fix that. I didn't know how at the time, but I wanted to repay you for being kind to me."

There are things in our past, the past that Charon and I spent together, that goes ignored. Like that incident, I remember it, just simply got brushed off. I hadn't thought about it in a while, simply because I didn't feel the need to after so long. Hearing what was really going on in his mind back then, I guess, makes me feel better about marching up to Ahzrukhal and demanding his contract.

"That was the first time you hugged me."

I say, remembering. I remember that hug. How warm he felt, how comfortable and secure my world suddenly became. I take it for granted now, I think, whenever he wraps his arms around me. I forget, that there was a time and place when he never used to do such things. Sometimes, you can get so lost in the present and future, that you forget what was once so important to you in the past. Charon's kindness to me back then kept me alive, kept me going. The hopes that every night he would embrace me, or hold me, or gently smooth the hair from my face, made me want to live to see another night.

"Yes, I remember."

He squeezes my hands, and I blush. Yes, Charon can make me blush. Don't knock it.

"Charon? Do you remember Rivet City?"

"Of course I do."

"No, no I mean…do you remember…what I did there?"

He thinks for a moment, before the memory hits him. Then he looks at me, slowly nodding.

"What were you thinking? When…that happened…"

"I was leaving the boat. I was doing as you had ordered me to do, when I looked to my left and saw you. It was as if everything went in slow motion. I saw you falling, saw you hit the water, and then…I didn't see you come up."

"How'd I get out of the water?"

"I went in. Swam after you. Held my breath and dove down to the bottom. Lord knows how long you'd been under there, but no more than a few minutes. I grabbed you, and dragged you ashore."

"But what were you thinking?"

"…I wasn't thinking of anything. I simply acted. I was worried, terribly worried. I'd never felt the need to rescue an employer like that. If you died, I would be free to find another holder. It wasn't what I wanted."

"You cared about me then, didn't you?"

"Yes. I grew attached to you. I didn't know how, why, or what it meant. I simply knew that harming or losing you was not what I wanted."

I smile at him, taking one of my hands away. Tucking my hair behind my ear, I smile. Charon. The way the looks at me, the way he holds my hand, the way he does every single thing, makes me never want to leave. Makes me want to stay here with him, just like this. It makes me regret all the fights, the past, the angry disappearances, it makes me regret ever hurting him, in any way. I had always hoped this was real. Hoped that love was real. I never wanted to be alone, but I always was. I hated it. But, then Charon came. Picking up his hand, I bring it to my lips.

"I need you, Charon."

He sighs deeply. Not lustful, not angrily, but like a deep weight has been lifted from him.

"I know."

"Please believe me."

"I do."

I smile at him, and he stares at me. Not a blank stare, but one that says everything, and says nothing. I narrow my eyes, I focus on him, just him, and everything else turns black. Nothing else matters. My heart pounds in my chest, as Charon leans forward. He takes his hand from my lips, and cups my face. I smile, still, at him. He kisses me, passionate, slow, wanting. When he pulls away from me, he wraps his arms around my waist, and pulls me into him.

"You're stuck with me."

I whisper, my nose tracing his neck.

"I know."

We look at one another, with only the light of the moon to illuminate our faces. Charon runs his hands through my hair. In the distance, an explosion. The world is alive, the world is moving, but here, on this balcony, it's still. There's nothing but us, but him, but me.

"You'll never be alone again."

He tells me, as if I'm the one who needs saving. As if I'm the one who needs his help. Maybe in the past, that was real. That was true, so many years ago. But, I'm as alright as I'll ever be.

"Neither will you."

I whisper, as the stars brighten, as if they can reflect the emotions that pour silently from us. I'm not so scared anymore. Not so scared of what the future holds. Not scared if the world will end or begin again. Nothing else matters. Nothing is as important as he is to me, and as I am to him. Whenever I need him, if he's not with me, I'll look to the stars, and they'll guide me to him. They'll light the way. The way that I've been searching for my entire life. The way to someone who loves me, who cares for me above all else. The way into someone's life. The way I walked into his life, the way he barged into mine.

He kisses me, long, slow, passionate. I wrap my arms around his shoulders, clinging to him like if I let go, the balcony that holds us up will crumble below us. The night comes down on us, a silvery gray wisp of light and darkness all at once. I don't want him to stop. Just want him to kiss me, slowly, passionately, just like he is now. He makes my skin crawl with desire, with divine feelings, with a light I have never felt before.

"I love you."

I whisper when our lips part for a moment. For the first time, I feel truly alive. I feel, that I'm not alone. I feel the space that's been empty so long, being filled. It's always been Charon. I was too blind and stupid to see it before. He's saved me, in every way a person can be saved. Thinking of this makes me tremble. Tremble and shake, and he holds me tighter, kissing me. I open my eyes in time to see a shooting star behind his head in the night sky.

And on this balcony, the place we call our home, the place of safety and recluse, the consummation of true love begins. It's not our first time, it won't be our last time, but it is the first time such emotions have been magnified. We almost lost one another, lost the world we created for ourselves. We prove, to each other, to ourselves, that nothing matters more than what we have. The world could end, right now, at this very moment, and I would be okay with that. With Charon wrapped in my arms, with his lips sealed against mine. With our breathing shallow, passionate, defiant against the unspoken laws of the Capital Wasteland. I have so much to say to him right now, so much to speak and express. I say it for the first time, with such conviction and such emotion that I feel it makes even the coldest person smile.

"Charon…"


End file.
